Neville Longbottom and the Philosopher's Stone
by Natalie River
Summary: Neville Longbottom was marked as the Dark Lord's equal. Raised as a muggle by his Grandmother age eleven he's thrust into a magical world. But it's not all that great. An evil wizard wants him dead and there's a stone that's going to be stolen. In which Harry's a Slytherin, Hermione's a know it all, Draco's rude, Ron follows them around and Neville...Neville's just Neville.
1. Chapter 1

Severus Snape stood by Dumbledore's side. The man was tall and thin and seemed quite old, he had a silver aura about him, whether that was from his sliver strands of hair or not it was hard to tell. His hair was as long as his grey beard, and was tucked tightly and securely into his belt. The robes he wore were purple and rich, they made him seem to be of higher ranking than the man he stood next too. His eyes were as blue as sky, and they sparkled like the stars behind the half moon spectacles that balanced on his nose. Albus Dumbledore stared at the house, and as he did he cradled the child wrapped in his cloak. "He killed Lilly?" Snape asked, tears were close in his eyes.

Slowly but surely Albus Dumbledore shook his head, he almost smiled. But did not. "James and Lilly Potter did not die tonight."

"But- the Dark Lord-you kept them safe?" Snape seemed almost overjoyed. "Why do you have the boy?"

"This child is not Harry Potter." The sickly sweet voice crept from beneath the old man's beard. "This child, is Neville Longbottom."

"Then-?"

"His parents are dead Severus." Dumbledore sighed. He stared down at the child, merely a year old. He stroked a tiny hair on the babe's head, it was dark matching that of his parents. "There is still blood on your hands."

"But Lilly lives?" Snape repeated. "I c-can't contact them."

"Oh, Lilly and James Potter are ever alive. It seems they trusted the right person, unlike you." Dumbledore chuckled slightly to himself softly. His voice became gentle. "You still wish to protect this child like you would have protected Harry?"

"He-"

"I made you a deal Severus." Dumbledore pressed. "I saved Lilly, I hid them. Sadly I did not hide the right family. But I saved her, and in return you are now to work against Voldermort." He smiled a yellow toothy grin as Snape winced. "Surely you're not afraid of your old master's name? Come now Severus." He paused. "I was just saying the week before last, Harry Potter looks a lot like you as a baby."

"All children look the same!" Snape snapped.

"Hrm." Dumbledore settled for that. He eyed the cat that was sitting on the wall, it was giving Snape a dirty look. He sighed.

"Minerva show yourself." Snape didn't look into the creature's eyes, but spoke to it instead. Anyone watching this scene would have seen two men in what looked quite like nightgowns or odd dresses, talking to a tabby cat.

Dumbledore nodded to the cat, who was no longer a cat but was seeming to almost burst out of it's skin transforming from a feline to a rather annoyed looking female. Her hair was dark, and drawn back into a tight bun, her robes were of the same colour, as if she was going to a funeral. She blended into the dark night. For there were no streetlights on that street, only a small cottage. It was where the village children thought a witch lived, and were told by their parents to stop being disrespectful to poor Mrs Longbottom. A widow and with family that lived far away, visiting were they could. They said she was lonely, no wonder she talked to her cats. To some extent they were all right. Minerva McGonagall looked quite unnerved. "How did you know it was me Severus?"

"Never," He frowned. "In my life, have I seen a cat give me such a disgusted look. I have always been good with most animals."

"I am no animal then." She smiled firmly and grimly. "Besides I have been waiting for you," she directed this at Dumbledore as if he were a very naughty boy for being late. "To turn up with the child."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked. "Professor, I would have expected you to be celebrating with the rest of our kind."

She sniffed through her crooked nose. "Oh yes, they're celebrating all right! I've heard dozens of feasts and parties!" She sighed giving a nod towards the village. "The only one who's not celebrating is her!" She nodded towards the house. "You'd think they'd be careful! I've seen them walking about in their robes! Past Muggles! On their way here just to give condolences!"

Snape sighed. "Minerva," He talked to her as if she were ignorant. She snorted, obviously not enjoying this. "I think they have something to celebrate."

"Still no reason to lose their heads Severus! Shooting stars! Flocks of owls! Honestly!" She rolled her eyes.

"We've not had a lot to celebrate." Dumbledore said gently. "And Mrs Longbottom is of course grieving she would not celebrate."

"Still! People are being incredibly careles! They're out on the streets in daylight!" She said it as if it was blasphemy. "Rummours!" She threw her hands into the air. "Rumours are spreading like wildfire! Wouldn't it be wonderful if when You-know-who disapears we're exposed to Muggles? Wouldn't that be wonderful?" She paused. "I suppose he really is gone?"

"It seems so." Snape confirmed.

"We have much to be thankful for." Dumbledore hushed the child in his arms, cradling him. "Would you care for a humbug Minerva?"

"A what?" She asked.

"It's not a real bug." Snape shook his head as if this was outrageous.

"Oh certainly not!" Dumbledore asured her. "It's a kind of Muggle sweet that I'm quite fond of."

"No thank you." Said Minerva McGonagall quite sternly. She didn't quite see this was a moment for sweets, let alone one named after a bug. "Still, even if You-know-who is gone.."

Dumbledore sighed. "Honestly!" He paused. "I was just saying to Severus, surely you can say his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' for eleven years, honestly I have been trying to persuade you to call him by his true name. Voldermort." McGonagall flinched badly as did Snape. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice, perhaps he had but he carried on speaking. He licked a humbug cautiously before popping it in his mouth. Surprisingly he still held the ability to speak. "It is all so confusing isn't it just? If we say 'You-Know-Who' all the time. What's the point in being frightened of a name? The fear of a name-" He started.

Snape glared at him. McGonagall spoke. "However as we know, you are different. Everyone knows You-know-" She paused. "Voldermort." She corrected herslef. "Was afraid of you."

"Don't flatter me." Said Dumbledore slowly. He hushed the child again, holding him tight within the folds of his cloak against the cold.

"Still Dumbledore, I must know!" McGonagall pressed. "No one has contacted the Potter's! Apparently there are rumours that Voldermort," She still winced as she said it. "He-he went after the child of the prophecy last night! But the parents wouldn't move out of the way. He couldn't kill a little boy!" She shot a glance at Snape. "Severus I'm so sorry." Her voice grew soft. "I know how much Lilly meant to you-"

Snape stepped forward. "Lilly _Potter_," He hissed spitting the words out. "Is not dead. Neither is her husband, _James Potter_." The venom in his voice was distinct. "Her son, Harry is alive."

"But the rumours..." McGonagall protested.

"Are true." Dumbledore said. He held up the child, who was now just falling into a deep sleep. He did not cry out, he simply slept. His eyes a dark brown loving colour, but across his otherwise peaceful face was a harsh scar. It was a single straight line in the centre of his forehead. It was still fresh, a slight drop of blood in it's corner. "The child lives." He showed her the child. "This is the boy who lived." He paused as he watched the boy open his mouth slightly and close it as if gulping in air. "Quite peaceful." He murmured. "This is Neville Longbottom."

"Frank and Alice's son?" She asked sharply. "Oh no.." She gulped. "Lilly and James I thought..I can understand..But Frank and Alice..oh my Lord...Poor poor boy." She spoke to herself alone, taking in the facts. "And he couldn't kill him?"

"It appears so." Snape commented sarcastically.

"We can only guess why not." Dumbledore informed her. "But now, we must leave him here."

"No!" Minerva almost snatched the child away from him. "Dumbledore surely you can not condone leaving this poor child with her?"

"He is her Grandmother after all." As Dumbledore spoke Severus Snape smirked.

"But Dumbledore, she's incompetent! She can barely take care of herself! She doesn't even use magic anymore! She belongs in one of St Mungo's care homes! She can't cope on her own! And with a young child too? I'm sorry, but she's become twisted! So long living on her own she talks to herself, she doesn't understand how to look after herself! Please Dumbledore..She has bare contact with the outside world! I'd doubt she'd even heard of V-Voldermort!"

"She is his Grandmother Minerva." Dumbledore explained. "It's the best place for him to be. She will be able to explain all to him at a later date. And I have written her a letter."

"A letter?" Minerva mocked. Snape raised his eyebrows. "A letter is all you can give him? He's famous in our world! He'd never understand that here!"

"Exactly." Dumbledore pointed out cooly. "She may be out of touch with society but she is not ignorant and nor will she see him as a burden. He will be loved here, but he won't be famous. Famous for something he doesn't even remember? Famous before he can even walk? Surely it's better for him to remain sheltered than to be given that at such an age?"

"I suppose." She admitted.

"I was about to leave him when we noticed you." Dumbledore informed her, he rocked the baby slightly. "You do make quite a fine cat Minerva." He winked micheviously. "Would you like to see him?" He asked.

McGonagall leaned forward, looking into the bundle of blankets that Dumbledore held out. She eyed the quick closing cut, in a direct line in the centre of his forehead. It was hidden just slightly by a tuft of his dark brown hair. "Is that where-?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you-?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Neither could Severus." He added as he saw her looking at his companion. "I'm sorry Minerva. Besides, scars are always handy, I have one that looks as if it's a map of the London Underground! It came in quite useful the year before last.." Before he started his story he was interupted by McGonagall.

"Should we leave him now then?" She asked, she was helping support the child in Dumbledore's arms. "He is quite a beautiful baby." She admitted.

"All babys are!" Snape interupted.

"Now now Severus." Dumbledore scolded softly. "He's not Lilly's child..we do know that.."

"Goodbye little Neville." Minerva kissed his forehead softly.

"Would you like to say goodbye to him Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh yes." He said. He shook his head. "He wouldn't notice, he's sleeping."

"Ok." Dumbledore agreed.

Dumbledore pushed the gate open, stepping slowly along the path. He laid the baby down on the doorstep, and taking a letter from where it had been concealed in his cloak tucked it inside the baby's blankets. He turned and walked from the doorway back to where the other two stood. For at least a minute the three stood, looking at the tiny bundle as from it a small cry came. "He must be cold." McGonagall found herself murmuring. She felt a tear for all those who had died come to her eye but she bit it back.

Snape seemed to be tense, and thw sparkle from Dumbledore's usually shining eyes had gone. Finally he spoke. "We shall go then." He said at last.

"I shall be going to see Lilly." Snape spat.

"Please don't dampen our spirits Severus." Dumbledore said quietly. "Cry for the victims, but please celebrate the boy who lived. Neville Longbottom has beaten the odds once again. Please Severus, don't start another battle between you and James."

"I'm seeing Lilly tonight. Not her husband." He infored Dumbledore before he drew his wand and turned sharply, he disapeared.

"I'll see you once term starts I expect Professor." Dumbledore nodded to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose sniffing loudly. The small street glowed a horrible orange suddenly, and he could only make out the tabby cat that was Minerva slink around a corner before disapearing into a hedge. Now he could just about make out the bundle of blankets from where he stood, faint sobs were coming from them. Yes he agreed with the crying child, Neville Longbottom certainly had something to cry about. "Good luck, Neville." He murmured, he turned on his heel swishing his cloak and he was gone. A breeze whistled through the guttering of Mrs Longbottom's house. It wasn't a unordinary house, it wasn't particularly tidy, it wasn't that normal. It was ordinary. Neville Longbottom rolled over as his sobbing ceased, one of his small fingers curled around the letter beside him as his mouth clamped around the envelope. He started to sleep, unknowing that he was incredibly special, not knowing that he was and soon would be famous, he fell to sleep not knowing that in a few hours time Mrs Longbottom would sob when she opened the front door to let the cat out (seeing as it hadn't mastered the technique of openeing doors). Neville Longbottom slept on, not knowing that his parents had died to save him. Not knowing that he had defeated the world's most evil Wizard, while he cried. He couldn't have known that at that very moment, all over the country people were meeting in secret, holding up glasses and in hushed voices they were toasting him. "To Neville Longbottom- the boy who lived!"

Because Neville Longbottom didn't know a lot of things as he sobbed on his Grandmother's doorstep.


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly ten years had passed since Mrs Longbottom had awoken to find her grandson on the front doorstep, but her home had hardly changed at all. The sun stil shone on the same untidy mangled weeds that formed her garden. The flaming ball of gass still lit up the brass nameplate on her front door, it still crept into her living room. Which was probably exactly the same as it had looked those years ago when Mrs Longbottom had opened the front door to find a small sleeping child on her frontdoor step. The only things that really showed that any time had passed at all were the pictures that now stood on the mantelpiece, and of course how clean the house was.

Ten years ago there had been a picture of Alice and Frank Longbottom, and a picture of her in her younger days. Dust had covered every surface, grime and slime in the bathroom and the sink. It wasn't a nice place to live, McGonagall had been right about that. But now the pictures on the mantelpiece showed a young brown haired boy pointing to a large scab on his knee, blowing out the candles of his seventh birthday cake, playing the violin as another family member silently winced, and finally being given a kiss by his Grandmother. The room held no sign that there had ever been a Frank or an Alice Longbottom, their faces were hidden in the entire house, and Neville had never seen their faces previously. But now Neville slept, and did not dream of that. He was sleeping but not for long.

Augusta Longbottom, his Grandmother was awake, and using a stick carefully managed to push herself out of bed and along the landing along to Neville's room. She knocked on the door, and called in her shrill voice. "Up young man!" She rapped on the door with her bony knuckles. "Did you hear me Neville?" She asked. "Get up!"

Neville could hear her making her way towards the kitchen, and popping slices of bread into the toaster. He rolled onto his front pushing himself up, and tried to remember what his dream had been about. He was quite sure he'd been dreaming about something green, or perhaps it was red. A lot of his dreams were colours. He'd tried to find a book about dreams at the library, but he hadn't been able to find one. It was a shame he thought, because he would have liked to have a library card. His Grandmother wouldn't let him, she hardly let him ever go far from home. She said she needed him to be near her, she didn't feel safe otherwise. He didn't see why not, bad stuff didn't happen where they lived, bad stuff happened in the centres of big cities like London, not tiny places like Tonbridge! He didn't see why she was so paranoid. He never was allowed to go on school trips with the other kids, she didn't even let him have friends around- not that he really had many friends. But it would have been nice to have the option!

He could hear his Grandmother pottering about the kitchen. He hoped she wasn't tormenting the kettle! She'd only let him persuade her to buy one when he pointed out how long it took to boil water on a stove. "Are you up?" She called again.

"Kind of!" He called back.

"Well get a move on! Your toast will get cold!"

Neville groaned and then sighed. He got up and looked around the small cosy room for a pair of socks. He found two socks, one was blue and stripey the other was red and had yellow stars on. He decided he would settle with them. He shook the dust of one of them and put them on. He never seemed to have clean clothing, or new clothing in fact. He lived wearing second hand clothes his Grandmother would get from charity shops. She didn't like shopping in normal shops, she said the women behind the counter looked at her funny. He agreed secretly, he would look at her funny too if he didn't know her. Finally he got dressed he slouched down the stairs and into the kitchen.

On the table was his Grandmother's handbag. It contained things he didn't even want to think about. She was now waving a stick like object at the kettle, and was muttering something under her breath. Oh great, he thought, he'd heard kids talking about stuff like this at school. He was going to have to have her sectioned. She'd finally gone mad. "Gran, what are you doing?" He ventured.

She turned swiftly, dropping the stick of wood into her handbag quickly. "Don't sneak up on an old woman like that Neville!" She scolded him. She stared at him, she'd had one of her turns the day before and hadn't been around when he got home from school. "Where did you get that bruise?" She demanded.

Neville shrugged. "I don't know." He decided denying all knowledge of it would probably help him in some way.

She squared up to him, as if she was going to hit him herself. Then she stopped and sighed. "You're not the man your father was." She said finally shaking her head. "That's certain." She seemed to be talking only to herself. "Neville did those boys in your class do that to you again?" She asked.

Neville wasn't exactly overweight, but nor was he skinny. He was just about average, he'd always been average. He looked small though, because of his Grandmother's badly fitting clothes. He wasn't able to fight, and he wasn't fast. He had a square head, and a big nose, his eyes were dark like his hair, he didn't have much interesting about him, he didn't wear glasses or need braces, he didn't have cool parents, or a sob story, or an interesting life. All he had was a stupid scar he'd gotten when he was a baby, it was a straight line in the centre of his head, and he had decided this disfigured him even more than anything else. He'd had it as long as he could ever remember, and he also knew that for the first eight years of his life he'd asked his Grandmother regularly how he had gotten it. She'd constantly told him it didn't matter, and it was an accident. He'd guessed it was something to do with his parents, but that was about it. Then she'd told him to get on with his homework and stop asking stupid questions he didn't want to know the answer to.

She sighed when she realised he wasn't going to answer the question about the purple bruise across his eye. He had had many in the past, but they almost always cleared up in a magically fast amount of time. "Put the kettle on would you, make your old Nan a cup of tea." She said.

Neville slowly filled it with water from the tap, because it hadn't earlier been filled with the liquid, and set it on to boil. He danced his way across the kitchen to the fridge, picking out the green topped milk. His Grandmother liked the red topped stuff, but to Neville it tasted like water coloured white. So they'd come to an agreement, they got the semi skimmed milk. In fact, he looked at the bottle, they could do with getting some more. His Grandmother wasn't as agile as she'd used to be, she constantly told him. She needed her stick. So he did the shopping, she was still worried about him doing that. Incase something happened to him!

Things did happen to him, he had to admit. But there was nothing wrong with that! He couldn't quite explain how or why he'd ended up on the school roof when the kids were chasing him. He couldn't quite explain why the broom he used to clean the small house seemed to almost have a mind of it's own as he used it. He couldn't explain the way dust and cobwebs were almost afraid of it. It was quite impossible to explain that. He couldn't tell you why he had dreams that he knew he should be afraid of, but that didn't bother him. He couldn't explain a lot of things, and his Grandmother seemed fine with that.

"You need a haircut." She commented. "It's getting to be like those hippies!"

Neville sighed. He wasn't sure which decade she lived in. "Gran," He paused. "It doesn't even touch my chin."

"In my day.." She started. Neville zoned out. He pottered around, making the tea, stirring it just the way she liked it, and adding one and a half spoons of sugar. Half a spoon more than she asked for, but she liked that amount. "Well at least comb it dear!" She finished.

"Why?" He demanded. "Are we going somewhere?"

She nodded promptly shoving a comb into his hand. He could have sworn it hadn't been there before. "Yes, we are." She said. "Oh don't look so surprised boy! You were saying the other day, that the other children got to go to some silly school trip? Well I've decided we can go to that drated zoo too! Why not? We haven't been out for a while now have we?"

Neville would have pointed out that it wasn't cool if it was with your Grandmother but he thought better of it. He didn't need another lecture about how he was a disapointment to her and his parents. He'd had enough of those, and although she always seemed sorry after he didn't really desire another one. "That sounds great." He finally said. He didn't care that much, it was just he knew she had enough money, but he'd argued with her because she'd told him he couldn't go to the zoo with the others.

The bus was crowded, because it was a very sunny Saturday for rainy Britan, and it looked like most of the people on the bus were headed for the zoo. Neville's Grandmother brought one children ticket, and one adult. She didn't have a bus pass, said she had better ways of getting around. Neville knew he'd get a clout round the head if he asked what ways these were. When they got stuck in a traffic jam she muttured something about "bloody muggle traffic" but he hadn't asked what she meant. Probably talking to herself, muttering dark things, she did that a lot.

Finally the bus stopped outside the zoo, and she made her way off, dragging her long dark purple feather coat around her. It looked out of place, with the other grandparents in comfortable jeans and t-shirts, perhaps hoodies or jumpers. She held onto her handbag as if some thug would come and snatch it away from her soon. She marched to the queue and in soon started to move faster. Neville assumed this was because she was intimidating, things often went the way she wanted them too. He hurried to keep up with her after she brought the tickets. He stumbled over his own feet, knocking into the wall.

"Clumsy boy." She muttured under her breath, before helping him up.

Neville muttured an apology. He guided her around the zoo skillfully, showing her the gorillas, the tigers, the monkeys and the birds. She quite liked the owls, calling them 'fine beasts' and 'good messangers'. He said he thought she might mean pigeons, pigeons were the ones who delivered messages, she had shaken her head and said 'No, I know what I'm talking about Neville'. Neville enjoyed himself very much as he looked around the zoo, he did feel quite sorry for the animals though, trapped in those horrible cages. He eyed the other children carefully, many were wingeing and crying. Was that what normal kids were meant to do? He'd probably get a smack around the head if he acted the way they did.

Neville's Grandmother couldn't afford toe restaurant, or so she said, so in her strange handbag she'd brought sandwiches. In Neville's was tuna, he had tried telling her he didn't like fish, but she never listened. She probably had the same tuna paste stuff in her own, she didn't seem to like it much either. But they were both hungry after tramping around the place, and so they ate every last scrap. Then from the midst of the bag came two slices of cake, which he ate and enjoyed. After that she handed him a plastic bottle with something in it. "Pumpkin juice?" he asked finally after taking a refreshing drink.

"As it's a treat." She informed him, her nose in the air. All she drank was water, said anything else interfeered with her medication. Finally after enjoying the odd meal they stood up, heading towards the reptile house. First they passed the bats, and his Grandmother had a small conversation with one. Neville had simply sighed and pretened not to know her.

It was cold and dark in the reptile house. Large black curtains hung where the enterances were. There were lit windows all along the black painted walls, and behind the plastic coated glass were all sorts of snakes and lizards. They crawled and slithered over bits of stone and wood. At first they scared Neville with their hissing, and he almost felt the need to hide behind his Grandmother. He stared at a huge snake, and learnt it was a poisonous cobra. Then his attention was taken by a thick python, according to the bit of written information it could crush a man.

He stared at it. Neville thought about how lonely the poor creatures must be, at least the tigers and monkeys were with their own kind. But this poor thing was kept in a glass box all alone every day, no company except the most stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass. It was worse than living with his grandmother and hardly seeing anyone. At least he had school. He suddenly hoped the snake wasn't dead, maybe it had died of boredom! The snake opened its beadlike eyes, and raising it's head slowly until it could look him in the eye it winked. Neville looked around to make sure no one was looking. He caught sight of his Grandmother who seemed to be another animal intently. He winked back at the snake.

"Are you ok?" He whispered touching the glass.

No.

The hissed reply came. Neville stepped back slightly.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He realised it was a stupid question when the snake rolled his eyes. He assumed it was a him. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "It must be hard living here, mustn't it?" He asked.

The snake nodded. But didn't speak. It's tongue flicked out slightly.

"I wish I could do something. There's not much I can do is there?" He asked. He found his hand reaching out, the glass wasn't there anymore. His hand stroked the snake's head, like you would do to a cat.

The snake shook it's head, swaying from side to side.

"Then again at least you have a home right?" He asked. "It's better than some people! My Grandmother always says we should be grateful for what we've got!"

Wise Woman

. He thought the snake said. But it couldn't have. Snakes didn't talk.

"She is." He shrugged.

"Dad!" A small girl shrieked pointing at Neville. "That boy's talking to the snake! Ewww he's touching it! Dad why is he doing that?"

All eyes had turned towards him. He found himself pulling away from the snake, but the snake came with him. Curling slightly around his neck. "It's going to kill him!"

"No he's in control of it!"

"It's part of a show!"

"Oh my God! Why is he talking to it?"

Neville was trying to sooth the snake, for the creature was quite obviously becoming distressed. "It's ok." He murmured.

"Why is he making those hissing noises?"

The snake was shaking slightly, as if to say he was scared. "Neville!" His Grandmother shrieked. "You come here right now!"

Two members of staff came running dragging the snake off him with different nets. Neville had tried to explain that the snake wasn't doing anything wrong but they'd apologised and put it back into a cage. "I'm sorry." Neville whispered as he was dragged away by his Grandmother.

She'd refused to stay long enough to talk to the manager. She'd stuck her nose in the air and dragged him out of the place. When they'd gotten in she hadn't said anything to him, she'd collapsed into her chair not even bothering to ask him to make her a cup of tea. "Go to your room now!" She'd ordered.

He'd tried to explain to her about the snake talking to him, but this had made her more angry. But it was different to her usual anger. It wasn't something he'd done. She seemed almost scared. But he wasn't hurt, he'd tried to say. He was fine. She'd shouted at him to go to his room, and had switched on her old radio. She listened to the strangest channels, nothing ordinary, nothing good. Stupid channels that made no sense. He'd caught her listening to it once, and it used the term "Muggle" he knew he'd heard it ebfore. He'd looked for it in the dictionary, and surprisingly it didn't exist. Perhaps they had a radio station for people that were as mad as his Gran.

He lay on his bed, and wished she'd let him buy batteries for his clock. She insisted on having dark curtains on the windows, and boards in front of them. He wouldn't doubt that the windows were bullet proof. She said she didn't want any nosey people poking their heads into her buisness. But it meant it was impossible for him to tell the time. No natural day light came in through the window, she jumped at any noise. He looked around the room. It wasn't that bad. The walls were a greyish blue, the bedsheets were blue. He'd been allowed to choose a colour about five years ago and at the time he'd liked the colour blue. The room had stayed blue ever since.

He'd lived with his Grandmother for almost ten years, not miserable years, but far from happy. He'd lived with her as far as he could remember. Ever since he was a baby in fact, and his parents had died. She would never say how they died, sometimes he strained his memory to its limits when he was in his room, and he could always remember the most blinding flash of green light, and a burning pain on his forehead. This he had to suppose was how his parents had died, some kind of collison or fire or something. Whenever he pressed the subject with his Grandmother she would become angry and would tell him to stop making an old woman sad.

He couldn't remember his parents at all, his Grandmother never spoke of them, nor did she let him see any photographs. He was forbidden to ask questions, because he was always told she could not answer. When he had been very young he had dreamt that they might still be alive, and they might come and take him away one day. But it had never happened, and now he was nearing eleven quickly he knew quite well it never would. His Grandmother and a few distant uncles and aunts were his only family. He was sure he was paranoid, but sometimes he was almost sure that strangers in streets recognised him. One day on the way to school a young woman dressed in scarlet had stopped him and shaken his hand, a wild man in green waved at him, and once a small man in a purple top had actually bowed to him. His Grandmother had shooed them away, and he'd asked why, she'd said they were freaks looking for attention.


	3. Chapter 3

Neville had just got back from the corner shop. It wasn't actually a corner shop, because it wasn't on the corner of their street. In fact it was about ten minutes away if he walked fast, but still his Grandmother called it the corner shop. He'd picked up eggs butter milk, a loaf of bread, some cornflakes, apples and his Grandmother's "special newspaper". He put he shopping away and was about to sit down to start on his new book, when his Grandmother came in, wrinkling her nose.

She smiled slightly when she saw him. "Oh you good boy!" She commented. "You got my paper from Mr Benson!" She sighed as she sat down herself. "I don't know what I'd do without you." She opened her newspaper, it was odd, because she refused to let him ever read it, and started to sink deeply into it. "I cleaned the stairs and the living room!" She commented. "Make me a cup of tea would you?" She asked. "There's a good boy." She relaxed.

Neville sighed, but stood up. "Do you want sugar?" He asked.

"Oh yes Dear, I need one after all that moving up and down!" She laughed. "Tell you what, how would you like to polish my brass for me later?" She asked. "A treat for you!"

As Neville went about making the tea he nodded to what she said. He tried not to laugh. Once every few months she would get her brass down from the top shelf in the living room, and he would be allow to polish them. She saw it as some kind of honour. He had never had the guts, or the heart to tell her it wasn't. She'd talk about who had given her the candlesticks, or the mugs, who had given her a nutcracker, what the tins were for. As the tea brewed he heard the click of the letter box as the letters flopped onto the doormat. "Get the mail for an old woman would you Neville?" She asked from behind the paper.

Neville headed to get it. They didn't get much mail, because his Grandmother had hardly any friends. She said they were all dead. Only a few items lay on the brown doormat. There was a postcard from some uncle somewhere, it said the usual "Hello Having a great time, Wish you were here, All our love..." Neville's Grandmother wanted to put them in the bin, but Neville sometimes hid them to keep them. There were two brown envelopes, both looked like bills. He sighed, the foul woman wouldn't be very happy with that either! And then, at the bottom of the pile was a letter adressed to him. He picked it up, and staring at it considered who it could be from. No one ever in his life had written to him personally. No friend, no relative, he didn't belong to the librarym so he never got letters from them! No one wrote to him. But it was right in front of him, staring him in the face like a hissing snake.

Mr N Longbottom Was the name staring at him, it had his full address in the greatest detail! It even stated which room he slept in. The envelope was incredibly thick, and quite heavy, it was made of yellowish parchment as if it had been stained by plaque and the adress was written in sparkling emerald ink. No stamp tainted it. He turned it over hands trembling, Neville saw a deep violet wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and asnake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up Neville!" His Grandmother called. "Have you got lost on the way back to the Kitchen?" She laughed slightly.

Neville handed his Grandmother the other letters and slowly began to tease open the envelope. He didn't want to rip the paper, it was too pretty. His Grandmother handed the postcard back to him. "Pop this in the rubbish for me, would you Dear?" She asked.

"Mhm." He answered, he held tightly onto the letter.

"What have you got there Neville?" She demanded as he started to unfold the letter. It was written on the same beautiful parchment as the envelope. With surprising speed for a woman her age she jerked the letter sharply out of his hand.

"That's mine!" Neville called in an attempt to snatch it back. "Gran give it back!"  
>His Grandmother shook her head. "Who'd write to you?" She snapped holding it away from him. Then her face dropped, she looked ill, as if she was about to have one of her turns. "I-I told them-I said no-they're not meant to contact you-" Her face was now as grey as her hair.<p>

"Gran are you ok?" Neville put a hand on her shoulder. He tried to tease the letter out of her hand, it was shaking so much yet the grip was firm.

She shook her head. "I told them they weren't to contact you. It's not safe!" She shrieked.

"Gran please. I want to read my letter." He tried slowly.

She shook her head again. Her voice quivered. "How do they know where you sleep? I-I'll complain!"

"Gran you're not making any sense." He tried to make her sit down again. She looked as if she might fall over any moment. She flicked around.

"But you're mine." She grabbed his face tightly in both hands, her nails dug into his skin. "They won't take you away from me!"

"Gran please let me read that letter." He tried again. "Gran you need to calm down."

"Please stay with me." She begged him now. "He won't take you away too! He won't!"

Neville put his own hands on her face. "I promise." He said slowly. "Ok Gran? I won't leave you. Ok?"

She nodded slowly sitting down. She tucked the letter away into her handbag. She looked shaken but was slowly regaining control all over herself. "It's a mistake that's what." She said slowly.

Neville handed her,her tea slowly and carefully. "What is Gran?" He'd almost forgotten about the letter.

"The letter." She said. "It was addressed to you accidentally. That's all." She informed him.

Neville knew she was lying to herself more than anyone else. "It wasn't a mistake Gran." He said almost angry. "It had my room on it."

"Shut up you stupid boy!" She raised her hand striking him across the face. Neville was used to her raising her hand, giving him a clap around the head. But that had hurt. Where her cold hand had been he could almost feel the impression on his face. It stung, and he bit back the tears. His Grandmother stared at her hand as if it was a poisonous snake, something that didn't belong to her. As if she had no control over what it had done. "I'm sorry." She said finally.

"I know Gran." He said. "You're tired. Why don't you go have a lie down?" He asked.

She nodded shaking slightly. "Yes. Yes. That makes sense. That's a good idea Frank..Yes..Good boy..I don't know what I'd do without you.." She talked to herself like this as she made her way to her room. To Neville's frustration she took her handbag with her, keeping the mysterious letter from him.

Neville sighed, he headed towards his room. She had turns like this before. But she was always ok in the end. But she'd never hit him like that before. Still he refused to blame her. It must have been hard raising a child on her own, especially at her age. He hated it when he did this. He always reasoned excuses for her. It was like she always expected him to be someone he wasn't. She always expected him to be great, to be magical, but he wasn't. He was plain old Neville who had a stupid scar probably because he ran into a desk when he was younger. He was stupid Neville who didn't have friends. He was the one who thought snakes could talk. No wonder she was disapointed in him. Who wouldn't be?

During the only times she spoke of his parents, she spoke of Frank. He knew that Frank had been his Dad, she spoke of him lovingly. A boy who had taken care of her for a long time, but then he'd left. That's all Neville could gather. When he did one of the bad things he couldn't explain, she would shout at him, and tell him he was a disapointment to them and to his parents. She liked saying that.

When he thought about his parents he thought he should cry. Or at least feel some emotion, but he couldn't. He didn't even know what they looked like. How could he possible miss what he never had? He realised this probably made him bad, maybe there was something wrong with him? Perhaps that was the problem. Maybe he was the freak? The disapointment. That might explain it. Maybe the letter was from some kind of mental home, and they wanted to take him away. Yes that sounded about right. He shuddered now, and his Grandmother gave up her life to look after him! No wonder she was frustrated with him sometimes! He knew she only raised her hands to strike him because she was angry. She had a reason to be.

He reasoned this with his mind as he lay back on his bed looking at the ceiling. There was a sharp knock at the front door. He sighed. It was obvious his Grandmother wouldn't be well enough to get it. Then again he wasn't meant to answer the door. He debated what to do, finally as the knocking didn't stop he stood up. He scrammbled his way down the stairs, and pulling open the door cautiously he faced an middle aged woman with a sharp face. She made an attempt at a smile, and he decided she was probably trying to look friendly. Sadly she wasn't succeeding. Her blonde hair was scraped back from her face in a ponytail. She was tall and willowy, wore robes of the deepest scarlet.

"Hello," She said kindly. Her voice was sharp, it had the eir of someone who was used to addressing classes of children and being listened to. It was a voice that belonged to the experienced teacher. "Is your Grandmother here Neville?"

Neville backed away slowly. There were small stars sown into the woman's robes, and she wore matching heels. "Who are you?" He asked eyes widening.

"My name is Professor Vector," She smiled. "I teach Arithmancy."

"Gran!" He hollered. He'd never heard of arithmancy before.

His Grandmother was by his side almost immadiately. It was as if she had just appeared there. She was pushing Neville behind her, and from her cardigan she pulled a wooden stick. She brandished it like a sword in front of her. "Stay away from my Grandson." She murmured.

"Mrs Longbottom, please." The woman smiled a strained smile. "I'm a Professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardy. I was sent by Albus to inform you he is well aware of your discomforts, but please, Hogwarts is the best place for Neville."

She shook her head. "He's just a boy!"

"We know that Mrs Longbottom, that's why Hogwarts is the best place for him to be!" She smiled gently. "Come now Ma'am you can't say it's not a good school, you went there yourself!"

"I know full well I did." She snapped, she didn't lower the stick. "But Neville's the only family I have left! He's too young!"

"He's Eleven today." She paused. "And you didn't celebrate his Birthday?" She asked.

"It's my buisness how I raise my own grandson!"

"I know that Ma'am but please.."

"Stay away from my family."

"Think what's best for your Grandson please." She begged, her foot in the door to stop it closing.

Neville pushed his way past his Grandmother. "What's Hogwarts?" He demanded. "Why do I have to go there?"

The Professor paused. "You didn't tell him?" She asked.

"I was protecting him!" She snapped.

"Neville, you're a wizard."


	4. Chapter 4

The woman made herself at home as she sat by the living room table. She was quite tall and had to bend her knees so that they almost touched her chest. She looked quite like a spider with legs too long trying to sit on the small chair. It was Neville's and it almost seemed to grow with him, he wasn't too big for it yet, but there had never been a time it was too big for him either. His Grandmother had sent him to make cups of tea in the kitchen. She hadn't touched her first one and now she was asking for a second! She often did this in fact. He'd make her tea, and when it went cold was when she'd ask for another cup.

He looked down at the side. He'd spilt some of the milk, he cursed under his breath, the worst word he knew. "Damn." It was what his Grandmother said often. He sighed, and searched for a tea cloth to dry it up with.

He wondered how the Professor liked her tea. She hadn't said. She'd just nodded at the offer. He made her tea similar to his Grandmother's, adding two and a half spoons of sugar to each, and putting milk before hot water. His Grandmother complained it was something about the taste of boiled milk. He didn't see the sense in that, but had learnt not to argue. He stirred the sugar into the tea, to make sure it was fully disolved. In the past if it wasn't she would stand up, straining herself slightly and wander back to the kitchen mumbling and do it herself.

He balanced the three cups on the blue spotted tray, and using his elbow pushed the door open making his way to the living room. It smelt dusty, dustier than usual. He'd be asked to clean it some time soon. He laughed silently to himself, that might be his treat. Polish his Grandad's old medals. The man had a few of them, with strange inscribings on them, Neville had once come across a medal that had his Father's name on it. It had some strange twisting words on it, but as soon as he'd tried to clean it to get a better look she'd snatched it away. Perhaps his treat for his Birthday would be to polish them once again!

He'd known it was his Birthday. The thirtieth of July, every year was his Birthday. When he was younger his Grandmother had made some effort. When he was four he had had cake. She'd baked it herself, and he hadn't the heart to tell her it was disgusting. When he was five she'd brought him some new winter gloves, in the middle of July. On his sixth birthday he'd been allowed twenty pence to walk to the shop and buy himself a sweet. By his seventh Birthday she slowly stopped bothering, he didn't really care though. He'd never celebrated her Birthday. He always made her a card though, but he assumed she put them in the bin. They weren't important to her, but to him they meant everything. This year he'd made a card with flowers on it, it was what he thought their garden should look like. He'd spent ages finding the different colours, doing it in secret at night, he'd spent every hour in school looking at books so he got them just right.

She'd said it was very nice. But she said that about everything. She'd smiled, but it was one of her "Very nice please put it away now" Smiles. But he knew, if he didn't bother to make a fuss about her Birthday she would be upset. And then she might even cry! He hated it when she cried!

"Here you go Gran." He grinned slightly. It was rather forced, but he knew that if he didn't smile she'd think something was up. "Professor."

"Thank you, Neville." She smiled at him.

"Are you a Doctor Professor?" He asked slowly as he set her cup down beside her on the table. The dark wood contrasted with her hair and skin.

"Oh no." She smiled toothily. "Of course not dear!" She looked excentric, and not used to actually handling children nicely. She was used to teaching, she reminded herself. But she wasn't setting him essays right now, she was talking to him on Dumbledore's orders. "Me and your Grandmother were just discussing you."

"Yes. And my point still stands!" His Grandmother threw her arms up into the air. "A boy needs his Grandmother!"

"He needs teaching!" She protested. "I'm no doctor Neville. I'm not here to take you away from your Grandmother either." She grinned like a cat Neville thought. Then he considered whether or not cats grinned. He was pretty sure he'd seen one grin at him before. "I'm a teacher at Hogwart's school of witchcraft and wizardry."

"Are you the head teacher?" Neville asked, he took a seat by his Grandmother. She clasped her hand in his, her hand was sweating slightly, she seemed afraid.

"Her?" She scoffed.

The Professor ignored the remark and so Neville did too. "No Neville." She informed him fidling with a strand of her hair. "I'm not the headmistress. That would be a man called Professor Dumbledore. I'm here, to offer you a place at the School."

"But I'm not special."

"Of course you are Neville!" She sank into the sofa slightly. "You're a wizard of course. Didn't I just say that? And a brilliant one at that! Once you've been trained at the school a bit. With a Mother and Father like yours, well what else would you be? And your Grandmother too! Wonderful Witch if I ever saw one!"

Neville stared at her for a second. He'd seen his Grandmother get offended by the village kids who called her a witch, she seemed to explode when they did that. But she sat perfectly still as this stranger called her one. He decided he was surrounded by lunatics, including himself in the count. "Right." He said slowly.

The Professor had the faintest idea that he didn't believe her. She sighed. "I think you should read the letter. I have a copy around h-" She started fumbling around looking for where she had left it. Organisation was something she had never excelled at.

His Grandmother sighed. "Allow me." She drew out the stick she had used earlier, and giving it a wave silently summoned the letter from her handbag. It zoomed down the stairs, past Neville's face (missing his nose by an inch) and into her hand. She reluctantly handed it to Neville, who stretched out his hand to take the yellowish rotten looking envelope, adressed in beautiful green to him.

He felt the spark of excitement he had felt when he first saw it. Slowly but carefully he started to open it again. In twisting elegant handwriting it said- _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

Neville assumed these were the Headmaster's titles, and he sure had a lot of them. He glanced up not knowing whether this was some elaborate joke or not. He looked back at the sheet of paper (or parchment he should have said) and continued to read. _Dear Mr Longbottom, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft And Wizardry. Please find enclosed the list of all necessary books and equiptment. Term begins on September the First. We await your return owl by no later than July the Thirty First. Yours sincerly, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. _

Questions exploded inside Neville's head like fireworks on bonfire night. He knew he wasn't meant to ask them, but he burned to. His eyes scanned the book list, looking all the looming titles and authors, it was overwhelming. The Professor watched him, and pointed to one of the books on the list.

"I set that one." She informed him, her long painted fingernail manacured perfectly hung over the title. Neville nodded slowly.

"Ok." He finally said. "What does it mean about the owl?"

"Oh that's nothing!" She smiled. "I just need to get the message back to Albus." She paused checking her watch. It had seven hands that spun in different directions and strange numbers around the edges. She seemed to understand it though, after giving it a sharp and violent shake. She sighed. "Oh I must be going dear! I've got at least three more trips to make to Muggles houses! They don't always take it well! Still none will be as magical as yous Neville!" She laughed at her own joke in a distasteful way. She took a small sip of her tea that she'd barely touched. "Well must fly! Or apparate even!" She twisted on the spot but didn't disapear.

"No apparation in the house." His Grandmother informed her as if she were talking of smoking. He knew she wasn't, because she smoked in the house, so that her clothing stunk of it.

The Professor nodded as his Grandmother led her to the front door. "Well cheery O then!" She grinned, twisting on the spot and was gone.

"That woman! You'd think she'd have the decency to apparate away from the house!" His Grandmother complained sitting down in her chair once more. It was her spot on the sofa, and she didn't like anyone else taking it. She said it suited her just fine. "What if a Muggle saw her!"

"A what?" Neville asked.

"A Muggle!" She threw her hands up in the air. "You don't listen do you?" She paused realising her mistake. "Oh a Muggle, it's what non magic folk are called. Like them kids in the village!"

"You mean you knew?" He asked sudenly. "You knew I was a wizard?"

"Knew?" She shrieked. "Was worried you were a squib! Hopeless you never showed any talent at all! Only for getting yourself into trouble! But I suppose I should have expected it! What with your Parents and all! Still I was so proud when Franky got his letter of acceptance!"

Neville was turning a shade of light pink, paler than his usual skin colour. "My Parents were magic and you didn't tell me?"

"I was protecting you!" She informed him snubbing his question.

"My parents were Wizards and Witches?"

"Yes." She frowned snapping at him. "Took you long enough to catch up!" She noticed the hurt expression in his eyes and softened slightly. "Now go make your Gran a cup of tea, there's a good lad!" She frowned when she saw him hesitate.

"But Gran, I made you one just then."

"I know, but it's gone cold!"

"Can't you do some magic and make it hot again?" He asked.

"Just make me a drink!" She shouted. Neville did as he was told. And slowly returned with the tea, he was doing his best to stop his hands from shaking. He put it down for her and she took a long good sip. "That's wonderful Dear!" She smiled at him seeming to forget her outburst.

"My parents went to Hogwarts?" He asked. "They were magic." He broached the subject carefully. He was trying to tease the information out of her, so that she wouldn't get angry too quickly. Or forget what she was saying, or perhaps have one of the famous headaches that prevented her from talking.

"They weren't just magic!" She roared. "They were aurours! They were _important! _Order of the Phenoix members and all!"

Neville tried to get her to slow down. To get her to calm down and talk slowly. So that she might make some kind of sense. "Hold on, what are aurors? What's the Order of the-?"

"When he met her, her your Mother!" She spat angrily, she held the cigarette she had lit in her and after inhaling. But she decided against it, crushing it in the ashtray on

the table and crushed it in her hand. She looked like she wanted to crush Neville in the ashtray too. "He went off and joined that stupid group! Deffying the Dark Lord! I was so proud of him!" She sobbed. "But then..then they had you..and then- then he killed them!" Neville wondered whether or not he should run and hide, like he did when she sometimes got incredibly angry. It was better to hide from her and listen to her sobbing, than to stand face to face with her and feel her wrath.

"He?" He asked frantically. He decided to stay with her, he didn't care if she let him have it. He needed to know things. He wanted to know. "Who's he?" He asked. "Someone killed them? Like a thief or something?"

"A thief?" She mocked him now as she stood up. No longer a frail woman but a monster. "A thief? A thief kill Frank and Alice Longbottom?" The anger faded from her face slowly. "No." She said slowly. "I didn't think I'd have to tell you so soon. B-but you can't go to school not knowing. Not if every child in out world knows your name." She said these things to herself.

Neville put a hand on her shoulder lowering her back into the seat. "Why would they know my name?" He asked softly.

She shook her head slowly, staring at the wall for a moment. A small hole was there, Neville remembered noticing it several times before. It was where a screw for a picture had once hung. "His name..It's..I don't like to say it..So afraid..So powerful.."

Neville looked at her from under his fringe, he traced the scar on his forehead carefully. "Why are you afraid of the name?" He asked slowly.

"Everyone was!" She gasped for breath slightly. "His name-it-it was-"

"You could spell it for me?" Neville suggested. Then stopped. He knew how bad she was at spelling. He listened to her talk to herself while she tried to do the crosswords, she never completed one. But it kept her occupied for a good few hours.

"You know I can't spell you stupid boy!" She shot at him crosly. She sighed. "His name was-is L-l," She was about to say Lord but stopped herself. "V-Voldermort." She shuddered.

"And I shan't be saying that name again!" She informed him.

"Was he a wizard?" Neville gaped.

"Was he a wizard hell? Of course he was! And about twenty years ago now I suppose, he decided he needed followers! Had a good few before that, but it really started around then. He had 'em too! A lot were afraid, a lot just wanted power. Terrible terrible things happened!"

"What kind of terrible things?" He asked again, his eyes wide.

He'd gotten too involved asking questions, he'd forgotten one of her main rules. She slapped him across the face hard. It didn't hurt, or sting as much. It was more of a warning than anything. "Don't ask me so many questions!" She snapped, the words stung him. "He was taking over the world! Of course some stood up to him mind. He killed them. Killed them in the worst ways you can imagine! One of the only safe places left was Hogwarts! In fact that Dumbledore was the only one he was ever afraid of, You-Know-Who. Never dared try to take the school over, not then anyway." She paused. "Your Father was a good wizard, he made me very proud he did! And your Mother wasn't bad either." She said his Mother as if she had something against the woman. "He never tried to get them over onto his side mind, just like James and Lilly! Probably thought they were too close to Dumbledore."

"Slow down?" He tried. He was worried she might end up hurting herself at the speed she was going, talking, waving her arms about.

"You want to know the story or what you idiot?" She demanded glaring at him. "Maybe he went to their house that night thinking he could persuade them! Maybe je just needed them out of the way! It doesn't matter does it? He got his wish! Turned up to the village you were livign ten years ago Halloween. You were just a baby, just one year old. He came to your house an-and he-" A tear rose in her eye, the colour hadn't returned to her cheeks. "He killed my son while he was protecting you and your god damned mother!" She stared at him as if he was the one who had done this. "He killed my son.." She sobbed, almost howling. Neville managed to stand and pass her a tissue from one of the boxes she kept around the house. She looked as if she wanted to murder him, he pushed himself away slightly. "And he killed her, he killed your mother. I-I suppose he wanted to finish the job! Or maybe he just liked killing! But he couldn't do it!"

"Couldn't do what?" Neville asked her. "Couldn't do what?"

"He couldn't do it!" She laughed slightly rocking forward and back. "He couldn't! He tried! He tried he tried he tried! But he couldn't do it!" She half laughed half sobbed in what seemed like utter relief.

Neville tried to stop her shaking by putting his hands on her shoulders. "Couldn't do what Gran?" He asked staring into her eyes.  
>"Take your hands off me!" She shrieked. "You brat!" The anger dropped from her mind almost immidately. She looked tearful again now, and caring. "Didn't you ever wonder where you got that scar from?" She asked.<p>

"I-I'm clumsy." He said finally. "I fall over..I'm..I'm not good on my feet..you always say...I assumed.."

"You assumed wrong!" She muttured. "Ignorant child! That's no ordinary cut! That's what you get when a powerful, evil curse touches you! That curse took care of my son and your Mother, and it destroyed the house even! But it didn't work on you. That's why your famous child! No one ever lived after he decided to kill them, no one except you! The greatest witches and wizards of the age, the Prewetts, the McKinnons, the Bones- he destroyed them! But no, you only a baby and you lived. But my Son didn't!"

As his Grandmother spoke, painful memories and thoughts were forming in his mind. The green light was becoming painful now, it was blinding and it hurt him more than anything had hurt him before. He could see the flash of light, because it was a flash not just a colour now. He remembered it more clearly than he remembered all the slaps and the beatings he'd been given in his life. But now, he rememebered something else now. Something he wasn't even aware he'd heard. A harsh, cold, cruel laugh. It seared through his skin, the laugh, the laughter. It echoed in all corners of his mind, bouncing back and forth, he heard the laugh. He remembered it now. It was always in his dreams, but it was one of the sections he didn't remember. Now it was like the background music. The laugh.

His Grandmother was watching him sadly now. She looked at him adoringly, lovingly almost. "Dumbledore brought you here. I don't know why. You would be much better off with someone sane." She looked at him sharply. Then started to accuse him. "That's right isn't it? You wish you didn't live with me? Is that it you good for nothing boy? Your parents died for you and he, _he _brought you here! To me! You're ungrateful aren't you? Aren't you?" She broke down now. Starting to sob. "Y-you don't love me do you? Just like your Father! He left me too! Go to Hogwarts! Make me proud! But you'll come back won't you? You won't run away from me will you? Not like your Father? Not like him? You don't hate me do you?" She begged.

Neville sat down on the edge of the sofa, and leant towards her. He consoled her with his arms. "Of course not Gran." He said slowly. "Of course I love you." He paused. "What happened to Vol-sorry," he watched her as she flinched. "You-Know-Who?"

She glared at him for a second, then smiled softly. Her hand reached up and stroked his face. "Good question Dear." She said finally. "No one knows. He disappeared, vanished into thin air! Same night he tried to kill you! That made you even more famous! That's the biggest mystery of all! He was getting more and more powerful, and then," She clicked her bony fingers. "He disapeared. Lots of people say he died, it was in the news for a long time! That's rubbish mind you! Don't think he was human enough to die! Some people say he's still out there, they do an article in the Prophet every year on the anniversary. They say he's binding 'is time, I don't know what to think! People on his side came back to ours after he went though. Some came out of trances, don't reckon they could have if he was coming back."

"What do you think happened?" Neville breathed, daring to ask.

"I reckon he's out there somewhere, but he's lost his powers. He isn't strong enough to cary on. Because something about you finished him Neville. There was something that night he didn't count on. Don't know what it was mind, but something stopped him!" His Grandmother stared at him, with almost respect in her blazing eyes.

Neville didn't feel pleased though, or even proud. He was quite sure there was some dreadful mistake. A wizard? Him of all people? How could he possibly be? He didn't doubt that his Grandmother was a witch, but him? He wasn't anything special. He'd spent his life being clouted by his Grandmother and looking after her in return. Being bullied by the kids in his school, if he was really a wizard why hadn't the kids turned to warty toads when they hurt him? Why didn't his Grandmother be kind to him? If he'd once defeated the greatest wizard of all kind, how come she could kick him about like a dead dog? "Gran," He said quietly. "I think there's a mistake. I can't be a wizard. I'm not even magic." To his surprise his Grandmother laughed.

"Too right you're not! Disapointment and a half! There still might be hope for you after all though! Not a wizard though, you've made things happen when you're scared and angry haven't you?"

Neville thought about that. He supposed she was right, he had made things happen when he'd been upset and angry. He thought about that more, he'd made the glass disapear when he was anxious at the zoo. He'd almost set a snake loose! He looked at his Gran again. "I suppose so."

"See!" She said loudly. "Neville Longbottom not a wizard? You wait, you'll be famous at Hogwarts!" She seemed almost happy now.

He thought this would be a good time to mention money. He held up the letter and the list he gripped tightly in his fist. "But Gran, these look like they cost a lot of money." He started to say.

She shook him to the side though, standing up. "They do!" She assured him excitedly. "But who'd have thought? My Grandson accepted to Hogwarts! Oh that's a surprise!" She muttured to herself, quite happy now. He sighed, she was always like this after getting upset.

"But Gran, we don't have money."

"Oh no Dear." She informed him. "We don't. But you do!"

She looked at the clock. "Oh look at the time! Look at the time! We'll be late!" She cried.

"Late for what?" Neville demanded.

"Late for the Three o clock train to London! I never got my apparating licence! Didn't pass the test see!" She tapped her nose as if it was a great secret.

"But we don't have any money!" He tried again. He thought about the time she'd taken him to the supermarket, he'd been about seven, and tried to pay the man with only one large gold coin. In the end they'd got kicked out after she swore at the cashier. He didn't want to have to jump off a train with her.

"Oh not yet dear!" She laughed almost hysterically. Then she paused staring at him. "Well what are you standing there for?" She demanded. "Off you go upstairs now! Get your coat! And I'll get your key!"

Neville hurried upstairs to grab his coat. He wasn't sure what she meant by 'his key', and he had half an idea that he would refuse to go anywhere with her. Then he thought of all the trouble she could get herself in if she went out by herself. He shook his head, and slid his arms into the coat. He sighed, sometimes he did wish he didn't live with his Grandmother.


	5. Chapter 5

They never made the three o clock train, it was quarter to three when they left the house. And at the speed his Grandmother walked, it took them about an hour to get to the train station. She was in a rather good mood, and had put on her best velvet coat, and a hat that looked like it had a dead weasel on it. She had lots of hats that looked like they had dead things on them, but Neville assumed this one wasn't meant to look like that. Still she held onto it as she hurried down the street, she wore red stockings to match the hat, and a skirt that came down to her ankles. The heels on her boots clicked as she walked along the cobbles, they weren't high heels as she had enough trouble walking in flats- she said.

They had to wait for about two hours at the station. His Grandmother had finally gotten on a train. But it hadn't been going to London. In fact they ended up near some town in South Wales. So they'd gotten back on the train, and had gone all the way back to London. They'd both had to sleep on the journey, and he awoke the next morning to sunshine on his face- an unusual thing in itself. They were two stops away from central London, and he thought it best to wake his Grandmother. She gave him a short lecture on how disgraceful the country was! And what on earth the world thought it was coming to! She complained about the trains not knowing where they were going, but he'd wanted to inform her that it was her who didn't know where she was going. She told him that she was never lost, because she always knew where she was, she just didn't know where the place she was was. This made sense to her at least.

When he'd first awoken he'd decided it must have been a dream. He must have dreamt some funny looking woman had turned up to tell him he was going to a school for wizards and witches. He'd decided that when he opened his eyes he'd be at home in his cupboard. But then he'd realised the room was swaying, and he'd awoken to his Grandmother snoring in the seat beside him, clutching her handbag feverishly. As if some thug was about to come and snatch if from her sleeping hands. Neville eyed some of the other passangers from behind her handbag, from the looks of some they probably would. He shook her awake.

She smiled at him sleepily, after accusing him of trying to steal her handbag. "I think we'll go to the bank first." She said informing him of one of their many taks for the day.

He paused, dreading that they'd get there and she'd demand money. He'd never been to a bank with her before, he'd never even seen her go to a bank. He hoped she knew how banks worked, and didn't just assume you were given money for nothing from them. "Gran," He said cautiously. "I don't have any money." He reminded her.

She laughed slightly before running a hand through her hair. "Don't worry Dear!" She said briskly. "D'you think your parents wouldn't leave you anything?" She asked. "Besides, there've been donations from so many sources!"

"Why would they donate to me?" He asked curiously.

She threw her hands up in the air dramatically. "Honestly Neville! You don't listen do you? Your famous! They created funds for you!"

"Oh." He said finally. "Oh." He said again.

"Well don't just stand there making faces like a goldfish! Off we go! Help your Gran off this disgusting platform now would you?" She eyed the graffiti with a wicked eye.

He linked arms with her and they walked together from the platform. Quite a few people stared at her as they walked, and Neville couldn't blame them. Not only was she wearing the most hideous clothes in existence, she was looking at ordinary things like kids hanging about on the street, and making comments about unruly thugs! It was as if she hadn't been out of the house for years, and Neville reckoned the trip to the zoo was the only time she'd ventured out. He sighed as children hid behind their parents from her and her large hat, and blushed furiously as parents whispered behind their hands. "Well Gringotts it is first!" She said. "Last time I heard they had Dragons there! Don't know what they'll have next!" Her strides were quite fast, and Neville had to hurry to keep up with her.

He saw a completely different side to her now. A magical side. "Dragons?" He asked. He could usually get away with asking questions in public, she wouldn't bark at him as much, or even raise a hand to him. She seemed to have good control over herself. "Yes of course dear. They guard the voults. Gringotts is the only wizard bank, the only decent one!" She informed him. She patted her pockets. "Now where's that letter you had? Let's take a look shall we?"

They were walking down a busy road lined with shops. The crowds were bussling and shoving each other, and Neville drew closer to her as he walked, almost hugging her skirts so he wouldn't get lost. He drew out the second piece of parchment and eyed the list as he walked. It told him that he would need three sets of plain black work robes, one plain black pointed hat for day wear, one pair of protective gloves in dragon hide, and one winter cloak in black with silver fastenings. He almost fell over the person in front of him as his Grandmother stopped to cross the road. He took this oppertunity to look at the books list, there were so many. A History of Magic, Magical Theory, Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them andThe Dark Forces: A guide to self protection. These seemed like a lot! He hoped he wouldn't have to read all of them in one go! But he also needed a wand, a cauldron, a setglass and a set of scales. He eyed the last line, he would be allowed to bring an owl a cat or a toad! That seemed nice. He'd always wanted a pet, but his Grandmother said one creature was enough in the house, and by now that was him!

He didn't think to question whether or not you could buy all of this in London. But he did want to know where they were going. "Where are we going?" He asked.

They were in the midst of crossing the street to where a line of cafes were. "Pardon?" She raised her hand to her ear.

He raised his voice. "Where are we going?" He repeated.

"Oh here and there!" She answered quite happily. She pointed at a tiny grubby looking pub. There was a sign over it, barely noticeable, the pub was called _The Leaky Cauldron_. "Oh I haven't been here for a long time!" She smiled as if remembering the good old days.

If she hadn't pointed it out Neville would have never noticed it. The people hurried past it, not glancing at it, their eyes slid over it like slippery soap as if they couldn't help but not see it. He was about to say that when he thought better of it, and she steered him quickly inside. The inside was no better than the outside, it was dark and shabby, and didn't honestly look like a place you should take anyone, let alone a small child. But the inhabitants seemed quite polite. A group of women sat in one corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry, and some other red liquid. One of them was smoking a pipe, she nodded to his Grandmother. A tiny man with quite long arms spoke to the bartender, who was quite old, and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chater stopped when they walked in. Most seemed to know his Grandmother, and Neville found himself hiding beside her. People waved and smiled, the bartender reached for a glass. "Long time no see Mrs Longbottom!" He hailed her. "The usual? On the house?" He offered her a sherry.

"Not today Tom." She snubbed him. "I'm taking my Grandson here shopping." She clapped her hand on his shoulder, proud as brass.

The man leaned closer, wiping his spectacles with a cloth. "Good heavens!" He cried peering his nose sticking out dangerously close to Neville's face. He leaned back. "Your Grandson Mrs Longbottom? You mean-? It can't-?" The pub had gone completely silent and deadly still. "Bless my soul," He whispered slowly. "Neville Longbottom..An honour!" He almost climbed over the bar, thought against it and hurried around from behind it. He rushed towards Neville, seizing his hand looking as if he wanted to kiss him. He shook his hand vigurously. "Welcome back Mr Longbottom! Welcome back!"

Neville wasn't sure what to say, everyone now was lookign at him. The woman who was smoking was still inhaling not realising it had gone out. His Grandmother beamed at them. There was a great scraping of chairs, and in the next moment he was bombarded by people wanted to shake his hand. He wondered if this was what celebrities put up with, the thought came to him! He was some kind of Wizard celebrity! He found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. "So proud Mr Longbottom, I'm just so proud." "Nice to meet you at last! Delighted Mr Longbottom, delighted!" "I've been waiting all my life! All my life Mr Longbottom."

Neville paused. "I've seen you before!" He announced. "You were the one that ran across the street to shake my hand!"

The man shook his hand again. He looked around in dismay at everyone. "Hear that?" He asked. "He remembers me! Neville Longbottom remembers me!" He shrieked in joy. Neville felt as if they were going to pull his hands off, they were shaking them so much.

A pale young looking man made his way forward, very nervously. It was as if he was afraid the crowd were sharks going to eat him alive any moment. One of his eyes was twitching frantically. "M-Mrs L-Longbottom!" He called raising his hand slightly. The crowd parted slightly letting him through. "I-I'll b-be o-one of your t-t-teachers at H-Hogwarts!" He stammered. "Pr-offesor Q-Quirell's t-the name." He stammered grasping Neville's hand.

Mrs Longbottom eyed him, it was almost as if she disaproved of him. Then again Neville thought, she disaproved of most things. "What do you teach?" He asked.  
>"Don't ask questions!" His Grandmother snapped. Perhaps she didn't want him offending a teacher so early into the term. In fact, as he thought about it, term hadn't started yet.<p>

"C-couldn't t-tell you how p-please I am to meet you." He stuttered. "D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts." He muttured. It was almost as if he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh L-L-Longbottom?" He laughed nervously now. "G-getting all your equiptment t-then I s-suppose?" He looked terrified now. The others wouldn't let them talk for much longer, and it took almost quarter of an hour to get away from them. At last his Grandmother's large piercing voice broke through the crowd.

"I would like it if you would kindly leave my grandson alone!" She cried. "Stop pestering the poor boy!"

Neville shook one last hand, before she took him away pushing out through the bar and into a small walled courtyard. There was nothing but a stinking trash can, and a few weeds. "Honestly." She sighed. "Some people." Neville just watched her, wondering why she was staring at the wall intetly. "I haven't been here for a long time mind!" She informed him. "Now three up two across!" She muttured to herself, tapping the wall three times with the point of her wand. The bricks she touched shook, wriggling, a small hole appeared, and quickly it became wider and wider until they were facing a large archway. It led them onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. "Welcome to Diagon Alley." She spoke quietly. She looked at his puzzled face, and held his hand tightly as they stepped through. The archway shrunk back into the wall behind them.

Neville's eye was caught by a stack of cauldrons outside one of the nearest shops. There was a sign that said they came in all sizes, copper, brass and silver! Some were self stiring, and you got some collapsible. "Yes, yes." His Grandmother nodded. "You'll need one of them!" She informed him. "But we need to get you some money first."

Neville found his head being turned in every direction as they walked up the street, he tried to look at everything they passed at once. He wanted to look at the things outside them, the people all doing their shopping. There was a soft hooting noise that came from one shop, and apparently it belonged to owls. There were some small children standing with their noses pressed to the window of one shop, and Neville wouldn't be surprised if they were stuck there. They were staring at a broomstick that claimed to be one of the fastest ever. There were shops that sold robes, shops that selled telescopes, potion bottles, globes of the moon! There were wonderful and brilliant shops. And finally they reachde a snow white building, pure as anything that stood above the shops. Standing beside the doors uniformed in scarlet and gold was a strange and beautiful creature. It was about a foot shorted than Neville and had a pointed clever face, a pointy beard, and incredibly long fingers and feet. He bowed as his Grandmother walked them inside. "Gringotts." She informed him.

They faced a second pair of doors once inside, silver now, engraved with a threat of what would happen if you tried to steal anything. "Why would someone want to rob here?" Neville breathed.  
>"Oh don't be stupid boy!" She scowled. "All the treasures of the wizarding world are kept here! Mind, you'd be insane to try and rob it!" She informed him as another pair of goblins bowed, showing them the way through the silver doors to a vast marble hall. About one hundred goblins were sitting on high stools along a counter, scribbling large ledgers, weighing coins and examining stones through eyeglasses. There were hundreds of doors too, leading off into unimaginable tunnels. There were goblins guarding them too.<p>

"Morning." His Grandmother said stiffly to a free goblin. "We're here to take money from Mr Neville Longbottom's safe."

"You have the key Ma'am, sir?" He asked.

"Yes." She said primply. She searched through her handbag, through spare tissues, an umberella, a set of keys for the house and goodness knows what. She stopped, then from around a chain on her kneck undid the clasp of the chain and slid the key off. She held it up, it was tiny and golden. She handed it to him, like a proud child presenting a completed essay to a teacher. "Everything is in order I trust?" She asked calmly.

"Yes." He informed her. "Very well." He said handing it back to her. "I shall have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!" He called. Griphook appeared, he was another goblin. They followed him toward one of the doors leading off from the hall. She nodded to another man a giant of a man.

"That's Hagrid, word is he's on offical business from Hogwarts!" She winked at him. He gave her a grin in return and went to the same counter, starting to empty his pockets, obviously searching for his own key. Griphook held the door for them, and led the way through to a narrow passageway made of stone. It was lit with flaming torches, and it sloped steeply downward about ten differnt little train tracks led in different directions crossing over each other. Griphook whistled using two fingers in his mouth, and a small cart hurtled toward them. They climbed in, his Grandmother with quite a bit of difficulty and about four goblins were called to help her. She knocked them away not wanting to admit she needed help. Neville clambered in after her. And they were off. They hurtled through a maze of twisting passages, Neville gave up trying to remember where they were going. They twisted around cornes, through curves, up and down, then down a steep shoot, they passed another cart that narrowly missed them. The cart almost seemed to know it's own way, and Neville shut his eyes tight gripping the edges of the cart because Griphook wasn't steering. His Grandmother didn't seem to find this odd, she just held onto her hat as they zoomed down. Neville hoped he didn't throw up. When the cart finally stopped and he finally opened his eyes cautiously he felt quite green.

They had stopped beside a tiny door in the passage wall. It looked like it was made of solid steel, but then he was told it was a type of magical rock. He clambered out, and had to use the wall for support. His knees were trembling, his head was shaking and spinning. His Grandmother managed to get out quite respectably without much hassle. She handed Griphook the key, and he unlocked the door. It swung open easily. No smoke came out, no magical light, no noise. It didn't even creak. Neville thought he should be disapointed, it should have been a spectacular event. The opening of the vault, but it hadn't been. But now he peered in, inside was a small mound of Gold coins. It looked like there were about two hundred. There were a few columns of silver ones. And a small heap of bronze ones.

"Yours." His Grandmother smiled. It looked like he had a fortune. He felt like it anyway, buried deep under London he had all this money. "Gold are Galleons, seventeen silver sickles to a Galleon, and twenty nine Knuts to a Sickle. Easy enough?" She asked. Neville guessed it was a question taht did not deserve an answer. If he said no then she'd probably call him stupid. He nodded dumbly. She helped him scoop about fifty of the gold ones into a small pouch, and she added a few knuts for good measure.

A wild cart ride later and they were back on the busy bright streets of London. Neville held tightly onto the bag and looked around the street. He wasn't sure how they converted into normal money, but he knew it was more money than he'd ever held in his life. "We should get you some uniform now!" She informed him, nodding toward a shop called Madam Malkin's. "Neville dear, would you mind if I went to pick a few things up? Just into that shop and get yourself measured. Ok?" She asked.

So Neville entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling rather nervous. Madam Malkin herself was a squat smiling witch who was dressed all in mauve. "Hogwarts?" She asked before he started to speak. "Got the lot here, another young man's being fitted now." In the back of the shop a boy with a pale pointed face was standing on a stool while another witch was slipping a robe over his head and pinning it at the right lengths.

"Hello." Said the boy. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes." Neville said quietly. He wasn't sure if he liked the boy.

"My Mother's next door buying some books." He said. He was quite bored. "I fancy looking at some brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. Do you?" He turned so the witch could pin the robes at his side. "Have you got a broom?" He asked.  
>"No." Neville said.<p>

"Do you play Quidditch?"

"No." Neville said again. Quidditch sounded like some horrible disease people died from. Apparently it was a game.

"Oh I love the game!" He sighed. "Father always wants me to be brilliant at it. He says it'll be a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house. I don't want to disapoint him."

Neville could understand that. "I know what it feels like to disapoint people."

"You know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No." Neville felt quite stupid.

"Well no one really knows 'till they get there do they?" He asked. "But I hope I'm not in Slytherin. It'd just annoy my Father so much if I wasn't! All our family have been- imagine being in Hufflepuff? I think I'd leave. Wouldn't you?"

"Mmm." Said Neville. He wished he could contribute something more interesting.

"Oh look at that woman's hat!" The boy said suddenly, nodding toward the window. Neville's Grandmother stood there, smiling slightly at him.

"Oh that's my Grandmother." Said Neville almost pleased to know something the boy didn't.

"Oh." Said the boy slowly. "Oh I'm sorry."

"I don't like the hat either." He informed the blonde boy.

"Don't you?" Asked the boy. "Why is she with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead." Neville said shortly. He didn't feel like broaching the subject a lot with this boy.

"Oh sorry." He said. "Were they our kind?"

"Yeah. They were a witch and a wizard." Neville said carefully.

"Oh, my Father says they shouldn't allow the other kind in!" He said. "What's your name anyway?" He asked.

Before Neville answered, Madam Malkin told him he was finished and he hoped down. He dragged the bags with him, and fled for his Grandmother. He didn't like talking to the boy. He told her about what the pale boy in the robe shop had said. She'd informed him he didn't know what he was talking about.

"What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" He asked finally as the tramped along.

"School houses." She said promptly. "There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot of duffers."

"I bet I'll be Hufflepuf."

"Better than Slytherin." She said darkly. "I was Ravenclaw my self. You know who was a Slytherin mind."

"Vol-You know who was at Hogwarts?" He gaped open mouthed.  
>"A long time ago." She snapped. She dragged him into a book shop called Flourish and Blotts, where the shelves were stacked with books as large as paving stones. Some bound in leather others with golden colours. THere were books the size of postage stamps covered in silk, and books full of symbols. There were heavy books chained to shelves, books with teeth and books with eyes, there were books with tongues even that stuck out. His Grandmother had to drag him around to get the right books, and to stop him from getting his hand bitten by one. Then they went to buy a cauldron, she got him a heavy one and said it was a good make and wouldn't break easily. They got a good set of scales, for weighing things, and a collapsible telescope. Then they went to a herb shop, and brought a small supply of ingridients. Then they went to the Owl Emporium which was dark and full of rustling and flickering bright jeweled eyes.<p>

Now Neville carried a small cage that held a dishevelled looking owl. It was a grey colour, grey and brown. It looked as if it was about to collapse, dying horrible. Every now and then it coughed up a feather. Neville liked him, because he looked sad and lonely. And his Grandmother agreed to buying him because he was half price. His name was Trevor, after Neville's Grandfather. He was now asleep with his head under his wing.

"Ollivanders now!" She announced. Neville was already dragged down with bags. "Only place for wands! I would give you your Fathers, but 't was destroyed. Still you need a good one.."

Neville had been looking forward to this. "A magic wand!" He cried. This was something he'd really been looking forward to. The shop they came to, was narrow and shabby, peeling golden letters over the door read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC". A single wand lay in a display case in the window. A young girl made her way out, she had the most startling blonde hair. She wore what looked like radishes in her ears, she smiled at her. She must have been about ten years old.

"Hello!" She smiled brightly. "Your Neville Longbottom aren't you?"

"Yeah.." He said slowly.

"Oh I thought you might be! You look like him! But you can never be sure, there are imposters everywhere. My name's Luna, nice to meet you Neville!" She nodded to him. She swung a hand over his head startling him slightly. "There was a Nargle there." She explained. "They like to eat thoughts you know." She turned as a man who must have been her father called to her. "Oh well I must be going! Bye Neville! Nice meeting you!" She called as she hurried away. Blinking Neville tried to understand half of what she had just said.

A bell tinkled as they stepped inside. It was a small place, except for a tiny chair that his Grandmother decided she would sit on. It was as if they entered a library, and Neville expected to be hushed any moment. The dust and silence seemed to tingle, as if it was hiding some secret magic. A yo

"Good afternoon." Said a soft voice. Neville jumped, but his Grandmother didn't. An elderly man was standing in front of them, pale eyes like moons in the gloomy shop.

"Hello." Neville said awkwardly.

"Ah yes," He said. "Thought I'd be seeing you soon Neville Longbottom." It wasn't a question. "You have the same eyes as your Father." He said. "Seems like yesterday he was in here, buying his first wand. Nice one for charms." Mr Ollivander moved even closer to him, and Neville wished he would blink. His silvery eyes were creepy. "Your Mother, on the other hand, favored Elk. I say favored, it's the wand that choses the wizard after all!" He moved even closer now, so that the two were almost nose to nose. Neville could see his own face reflected in the misty eyes. "And that's where.." He touched the straight line on the forehead with a long white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did that." He informed him. "Thirteen and a half inches, yew, a pwoerful wand, incredibly so in the wrong hand. If I had ever known!" He shook his head and then stepped away eyeing his grandmother. "Mrs Longbottom!" he cried. He directed an air kiss in her direction. "Too long, too long! You still have yours?"

She nodded curtly. "Yes. And in good condition I keep it might I add!"

"Very good!" He smiled. He directed his attention back to Neville. "Well now Mr Longbottom." He pulled out a long thin tape measure with tiny silver markings on it. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Ur-left?" He asked. He was left handed.

"Hold out your arm then." Ollivander said. "That's good." He smiled. He took the measures. As he measured he spoke, to himself and to Neville. Suddenly Neville realised that the tape measure was measuring on it's own. "Right then, try this one."

They went through about forty different wands, each with disatorous results. At first nothing happened, but after about ten different wands, flames errupted from one causing his eyebrows to become slightly singed. Another flick of another wand and all the boxes from the shelves fell down. Then another flew out of his hand hitting the wand seller on the nose. Finally Ollivander sighed.

"I know!" he said. "Well why not." He reached for a thin box that held a wand. "Why not?" He asked himself. "Unusual. Holly and pheonix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." He handed the wand to Neville who took it. A warmth spread through his fingers, he raised it and swished it in the air. A stream of beautiful sparks like fireworks shot from the end. His Grandmother who he had thought was sleeping looked up, and gave him a small clap.

"Oh bravo!" Cried Mr Olligander. "Very good...well curious..very curious.." He put the wand back in the box, wrapping it in brown paper.

"What's curious?" Asked Neville.  
>Mr Ollivander eyed him with a pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold!" He informed the young boy. "Every single one! It just so happens that the feather in your wand, came from a single pheonix, and that bird gave only one other. It's very curious to me, that you should be destined for this wand, when it's brother, it's brother gave you that scar."<p>

Neville swollowed. "You mean?"

"The wand choses the wizard Mr Longbottom! I think we shall expect the greatest things from you!" Neville knew he wasn't the only one who expected things, and he hoped he wouldn't be too disapointed. "After all, he who must not be named did great things, terrible but great." Neville shivered, he wasn't sure if he liked Mr Ollivander. He paid seven whole Galleons for the wand, and the seller bowed to them as they left.

As the afternoon sun shone it started to rain, and so they hurried as they made their way back down the strange alley, through the wall, and through the pub. Neville didn't talk much as they walked, he didn't even notice the people staring at them and the owl on the undergroung. Laden with all the funny shaped packages they must have looked odd. He only realised that they were nearing the train station to get a train home when his Grandmother tapped him on the shoulder.

"Let's sit down for a cup of tea and something to eat." She smiled kindly. "Before the train gets here?"

They sat down in a small cafe near the waiting room. His Grandmother brought a cup of tea which he caried from the counter to a small plastic table in a corner. They balanced all the packages carefully, letting Trevor sit on the table. His Grandmother brought him a can of coke, and a plate of chips. They sat down on the yellow dainty seats to eat. He picked at his food slowly. "Are you ok Neville?" His Grandmother asked finally as she carefully sipped her tea, shuddering in disgust.

"Everyone thinks I'm special."

"Belive me I don't."

Her bluntness retrieved some of the normality in his life. He sighed. Wiping his eys slightly. "I'm famous." He finally said. "All those people..But I don't know any magic! How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I don't even know what for!"

His Grandmother sighed. "I don't know how they expect it either." She said finally. "But we'll be fine, we have been until now right Neville?"

"Yes Gran."

"We get on good don't we Nev?"

"Yes Gran."

"Now come on, lets get on that train. It'll be here soon. Oh, and keep that train ticket safe mind!"

"Yes Gran."

"I'm not the best person, I know that Neville. But I do my best and you know that right? You know I love you? And I'm not always good at showing it?" Her voice was begging slightly.

"Yes Gran." He said finally. Words he echoed constantly.


	6. Chapter 6

Neville's last month with his Grandmother wasn't fun, but it wasn't bad either. She switched states incredibly quickly, sometimes she would freak out over nothing, sometimes she burst into tears, and sometimes she would go silent not talking to him. She would beg, and she would cry, and plead that he not really go to Hogwarts. Then she would ask if he would leave a poor old woman all alone. But after about two weeks she finally he accepted that he was really going. She seemed half terrified, and half heartbroken. Neville mostly stayed in his room, his new owl for company. They were matched in every way. Trevor was a disapointment to owls in the way he got lost from the bedroom to the kitchen, he couldn't fly in a straight line, and he had trouble even sitting on a perch- he had to hang on for dear life.

He'd had a little read of his school books, and they did seem quite interesting. He lay on his bed, and on the sofa, and on the floor and anywhere where he would read. When he wasn't making sure she was well stocked with food from the shops, or doing the housework he was reading. Every night before he went to bed though, he promised he wasn't leaving her forever. And ticked another day of the calendar he'd been given by his Grandmother. It was getting closer and closer towards September the First. On the last day of August he suddenly remembered he had to check whether or not she was coming to King's Crossstation the next day.

She was sitting in the living room when he came down from his bedroom, reading the newspaper. "Hey Gran." He said slowly.

"What do you want this time boy?" She asked not bringing her nose out from the paper.

"Nothing Gran." He said, eye eyed her from where he was looking down at the floor.

"You need to be at Kingscross tomorrow don't you?" She asked looking up this time. She tutted at an article that had caught her eye. "Hooligans!" She muttured.

"Yes Gran." He finally said. "Are you coming with me?" He asked.

She shook her head slowly. "You know how upset I get Neville! You know that don't you?" She asked.

"I know." He nodded. He pullde the ticket out from his jean pocket. "I get the train from platform nine and three quarters at eleven o clock." He told her.

She stared at him for a second. "Oh yes, the famous nine and three quarters!" She almost laughed. "It's an odd platform. You'll find it ok if you're a Longbottom mind." She grinned.

The next morning Neville woke up at quarter to five, and was too nervous or excited or perhaps a mixture of both, to go back to sleep. He got dressed in jeans and a jumper that had once belonged to his Grandad, and put his robes in his case. He didn't want to catch the train to Kingscross in his wizard robes, he decided to chance on the Hogwarts train. He checked his list about seven times that morning, making sure he had everything. He packed and repacked while his Grandmother still slept, and made sure Trevor was still shut in his cage safely and well fed. Then he went downstairs and made his Gran a cup of tea, by the time it had brewed and he went to put it down on the table his Gran was sitting there. She'd somehow managed to bring all his luggage down from the bedroom.

"You're leaving then?" She asked.

"I have to go in a minute, to get there on time."

"This is goodbye then?" She asked finally.

"I'll be back soon."

"Your Dad said that, he didn't come back at Christmas, hardly stayed the summer."

"I'll write every day."

"Good lad."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before he grabbed his trunk, and his owl cage and headed for the door. Finally after a taxi ride and a train ride he arrived ath te station. He tried not to think about his Gran all on her own sitting at home. He hoped she wouldn't be too lonely, and he truly hoped she wouldn't be sad. He wouldn't be able to bare it if she was. He wheeled his trunk on a luggage cart along the station, and stopped dead when he faced two platforms. Platform nine and ten, but nowhere in between was nine and three quarters. The numbers were in big plastic signs.

Neville wasn't sure what to do now. He could phone his Grandmother, but she hardly ever answered the phone. If she did she often didn't hear him properly and couldn't understand what he was saying. Sometimes she'd answer then hang up, so he doubted that would be a lot of help. He looked around, he didn't want to ask someone because they probably wouldn't know. He wondered up and down for a while looking at the two platforms trying to see if somewhere was hidden in between them. But he still wasn't sure what was meant to be happening. Was it some magical test? If it was he was sure he was failing. He was having a lot of funny looks because of Trevor, and he hoped that no one would think to report him for animal abuse. Because the poor creature did look as if it was about to keel over.

He didn't even know what part of the country Hogwarts was in! So he couldn't even say where he was headed. He tried to find a train that left at eleven from the timetable, but there didn't appear to be one. According to the clock though, there was only quarter of an hour for him to get on. He started to realise he was stranded, somewhere he didn't know, with a trunk, an owl and a lot of wizard money. He bet there was some test he had to pass to get there, that's why he was failing! Besides even if he did get there what if they sent him back saying there had been a mistake! His Grandmother wouldn't be happy at all if that happened! She'd be so disapointed no wonder she'd get angry.

Maybe he had to tap a brick. He aproached the barrier and started to tap different bricks. Nothing happened. He wondered if he needed his wand, suddenly he felt a presence behind him, he swung around to where the girl he'd seen earlier had been. She gave him a small smile. "This place is always packed with Muggles isn't it?"

"Urm.." Neville started. He stared as a family of redheads aproached the platform, and one at a go running at the dividing barrier disapeared. "What did they just do?" He asked the girl, her name was Luna or something.

"Oh they're going to platform Nine and Three Quarters." She informed him. "The train leaves in a bit. Why aren't you on it?" She asked him. She wasn't looking him in the eye, just the area above his head.

"Yes." He said finally. "Thing is I don't know how to get to the platform."

"Oh." She smiled at him toothily. Her hair looked like she usually kept it tied back, it was between curly and straight hanging by her ears. She seemed to have a spotted fruit hangign from her ears today. Her eyes looked like they were dreaming about something far away.

He stared at her. "Could you tell me how to get there?" He finally asked.

She blinked her misty blue eyes. "Of course I could!" She told him cheerfully. She continued to stare at the barried thoughtfully.

"Well?"

"Well what?" She asked him.

"Well are you going to?"

"Going to do what?" She asked him.

"Going to tell me how to get to the platform!" He snapped.

"Oh did you want me to?" Her voice was dreamy and soft.

"Yes."

"You didn't ask." She paused. "Ask then."

"Ask what?" Neville was getting confused now.

"Ask how to get to the platform!"

"Fine." He scowled slightly, feeling that she was mocking him. "How do I get to the platform?"

"Oh it's very easy!" She smiled. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier in between platforms Nine and Ten. Don't stop though, or you'll be scared and crash into it. That's very important! Oh run if you're nervous! Go on then!"

"Er.." He hesitated wondering if she was winding him up.

"Honestly!" She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. Holding the trolley with him. People jostled about boarding and unboarding trains. She started to push the trolley with him, and he was sure she was a lunatic, because the barrier looked very solid. They were going to crash and then he'd be in trouble! She leaned forward making him run slightly as the barrier came nearer and nearer, he realised he wouldn't be able to stop. The cart was out of control, a foot away, Neville closed his eyes. The collison didn't come, they kept running and he opened his eyes.

They had come ont a beautiful platform, an iron archway was where the barrier had been and a sigh overhead read "Platform Nine and Three Quarters". There was a sign saying that the Hogwarts Express left at eleven. He looked behind him as smoke from the engine drifted over everyone's heads, familes were bidding their goodbyes, as children boarded with their cats and toads and owls, the first few carriges were already full of people, and students hung out of the windows to talk to their families. There were fights going on for good seats. Luna helped him put his trunk onto the train. He looked around for her trunk.

"Aren't you getting on?" he asked her. She shook her head letting her hair fall around her eyes.

"Oh no." She told him. "I'm just here to watch the trains."

He nodded, that seemed slightly normal. "Right." He said.

"You better get on then." She said. "I'll see you next year Neville Longbottom. I'll be going to Hogwarts then."

"Right." He nodded to her. "Bye Luna."

"Bye Neville!" She waved.

A boy with wonderful dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd, he was keeping something hairy and scary in a box, handing it aroudn to different people. Girls were shrieking but them demanding he show it to them. He tried to find an empty seat, two boys with bright red hair were pointing at him now.

"Are you?" One asked staring at him. Neville tried to make his way past them so he could find a seat. But they barred his way.

"He is!" Said the other one.

"Blimey you're Neville Longbottom!"

"Oy don't stare at him! He's not something from a zoo!" Shrieked one of the girls from the carrige where the boy and the spider had been. "Leave him alone George!"

"Coming Alicia!" Called George. He dragged his twin after him.

The train started to move and Neville watched as younger siblings ran along beside it, waving. He saw Luna, she was waving vaguely not really at anyone. The people running gave up as the train gathered too much speed, and Neville watched as Luna disapeared when the train rounded a corner. Houses flew past, and he felt a great leap of excitement. He found an unnocupied compartment and sat down. He felt a leap of excitement! He was finally escaping, but then guilt took him. The door of the compartment slid open and the redheaded twins stuck their heads roun the door.

"Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula!" They informed it. "He says he's putting it in Snape's soup!" Then they noticed it was only him sitting there. "Oh, nice meeting you Neville! You're really him aren't you?" He nodded slowly and they disapeared shutting the door behind them.

The blonde boy he'd seen at the robe shop stuck his head around the door. "Is there anyone sitting there?" He asked pointing at the seat opposite Neville. "It's just that everywhere else is full."

Neville shook his head and the boy sat down, he glanced at Neville's scar once and then at the floor. "You are really Neville Longbottom aren't you?" He blurted out. He went a shade of red then, which contrasted with his hair. Neville nodded. "You've really got a scar?" He asked, before pointing at Neville's forehead.

Neville pulled up his fringe, showing the line. "It's not much to look at is it?" He asked.

Draco shook his head. "Not really." He admitted. "You don't remember it?"

"Nothing." Neville said. "Well I'm starting to remember a lot of green light." He paused and looked out of the window. "So are all of your family wizards?" he asked.

Draco nodded. "Pure bloods."

Neville didn't know what it meant to be pure blooded, but it must be good. "You must know a load of magic then!"

"A bit." Draco was far from modest. "I'm an only child." He informed Neville.

"Me too!" Neville was almost excited to have someone who was a friend already. "What are your parents like?" He asked.

"Well my Father's really big with the ministry, and at the school." He said slowly and snobishly. "So he expects me to do as well as he did at Hogwarts."

"You sound like you don't want to thought." Neville commented.

"Not really. He really gets angry at me and my Mother, especially if we don't do something right."

"Does he ever hit you?" Neville asked.

Draco looked shocked but shook his head. "No, just shouts." He finally said. "He doesn't want me to disapoint him." He frowned slightly, Neville assumed it was something he did a lot.

"My Grandma does that a lot." He said. "She always seems to be disapointed in me." He sighed. "She didn't even tell me I was a wizard! Until some Hogwarts Professor turned up!"

"What really?" Draco was shocked.

"Nope. Or about Voldermort-"

"Don't say his name!" Draco had all but covered Neville's mouth.

"I bet I've got loads to learn."

"You'll be all right." Draco said. "At least you have an excuse! Being raised like a Muggle and all! But if I mess up, my Father won't be happy."

"Isn't that what you want though?" Neville asked.

Draco shrugged. While they had talked the train had sped from London, and now they flashed past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a few minutes as they watched the fields go by. Around mid day there was a terrible clattering that made it seem like the train was falling to pieces, but it turned out to be a dimpled woman who slid back the door to ask them if they wanted to buy anything off the cart. Neville's mind woke up when he heard this. Sometimes, if he was lucky, his Grandmother gave him a little bit of money to buy a treat from the local shop. He felt the few silver coins in his pocket, and felt rich. He had brought those few, because his Grandmother said if he needed money for anything she would always be able to send him more. He guessed this was to stop him losing it, and to prevent him from spending it all in one go. He brought a packet of Berttie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, a Pumpkin Pasty, and a Chocolate Frog. He paid her one silver sickle, and eight knuts. Draco brought a Pumpkin Pasty and a Chocolate Frog.

Neville took a large bite out of the pumpkin pasty, remembering he had not eaten since the night before. He'd made pasta for himself and his Grandmother, a sudden pang of guilt ran through his stomach along with it's growls of protest. He hoped she'd be able to get along on her own now. He felt a tear start to form in his eye, but brushed it away with the hem of his robe. "Hungry?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Neville nodded and answered with his mouth half full. He almost spat crumbs all over the blonde boy. "Starving." He finished it quickly, much before Draco, and sat in silence as his new 'friend' ate his own food. It felt quite nice really. He'd never had anyone to sit by before. This was a weird feeling. "Are these real frogs?" He asked.

Draco laughed. Then realised Neville wasn't joking. "Duh no." He said. "They've got cards in them. You collect them, of famous witches and wizards."

"Really?" Neville asked, though he was finally understanding that not much more would surprise him now.

"Yeah." He sighed. "I used to have a good collection, but my Father thought they were a waste of time. He threw a lot of them away." He paused. "You can't blame him though, he's got a lot on his mind."

"Wow." Neville said. He unwrapped the Chocolate frog and picked up the card. It showed an elderly man, he had wrinkles on his face and scratches on one cheek. Underneath the picture was the name Mungo Bonham. He turned the card over and read: MUNGO BONHAM FOUNDED ST MUNGO'S FOR MAGICAL AILMENTS AND MADLADIES. Also a healer himself Mungo was particularly famous for founding the hospital and his pieces on alchemy said to have inspired Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel themselves. Mungo was born in 1560 and provided many techniques we still use in the modern day. Sadly he died in 1659 due to no fault of his own. Mungo was said to have made some of the greatest advances in the history of magic. Neville turned the card back around and was shocked to see the edlerly man waving at him.

"He's moving!"

"Yeah, I know, I've got him already. He likes to wave." He looked down at his own card. "Oh it's Dumbledore. My Father thinks the man's becoming imcompetent you know. I've got his card too though, you want it?" He asked. It was more of a 'you're having it' though.

"Oh." Neville said. "Why do they move?" He asked.

"I don't know." Draco replied. "Why shouldn't they?" He asked. He eyed the bag of every flavour beans. "Those things can be disgusting." He said finally. "Every flavour means every flavour. I once had a liver flavoured once." He picked one out after Neville opened it, and popped it in his mouth. "Urgh! Curry." He chewed. "Not bad actually."

There was a knock on the door, a redheaded boy came in. He looked quite annoyed. "Have you seen a rat?" He asked. "It's just I've lost him. I don't really want him back, but my Mum will probably be angry with me if I don't find him.."

"I'd be more careful of your possesions Weasley." Draco murmured. Neville assumed they must know each other already. Perhaps they were friends if Draco was being so kind as to warn him about looking after his belongings.

Neville shook his head. "I have an owl." He said helpfully.

"Yeah, that's great." The redheaded boy shook his head, before retreating.

"You have an owl?" Draco asked once the boy had gone. He sighed. "I'd love a pet, but Father says they're loud annoying animals."

"Yeah." Neville pointed to where the cage stood.

"Is it ok?" Draco asked, the sneer was low in his voice.

"I think so." Neville answered contentedly. "He always looks like that."

A girl stuck her head around their compartment door, she had lots of bushy dark hair and rather abnormally large front teeth. They reminded Neville of a duck. He felt it best not to tell her that. "Hello, don't you think you should be putting on your robes sometime soon?" She asked. She had a rather bossy voice, and was already docked out in her Hogwarts robes. She sat down, unaware that she wasn't welcome. "Have you done any magic yet?" She asked. "I've tried a few simple spells, and they seem to work well. My family has no magic at all of course, but it was such a lovely surprise when I got my letter- I mean Hogwarts is the best school for us that there is. I've read all of our books already, have you? I hope that will be enough. I'm Hermione Granger by the way, and you are?" She said this very fast, her words turning into one long slur, or so it felt like to Neville's ears. She'd read all the books? She looked like the kind of person who would. He almost blushed, what if he got sent home for not reading them? He felt himself cringe inside.

"Muggle born?" Draco sneered. Neville wasn't sure he liked this version of his new friend.

"Is there a problem with that?" She asked.

"No." His answer was sarcastic but neither Neville nor she caught up on it.

"Good."

"I'm Draco Malfoy." He said finally. He didn't hold out his hand.

"Neville Longbottom." Said Neville.

"Really?" She asked. "Oh I've read all about you of course. You're in so many books! Modern Magical History, oh and The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, oh you're even in Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!" She ticked them off her fingers as she recited them.

"Really?" He echoed.

"Oh of course!" She cried. "You know I'd have found out every single could if it were me!" She scowled slightly as if they were ignorant. "Do you know what house you'll be in?" She asked. "I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds like the best! But Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. What about you two?" She didn't wait for an answer, and stood up her robes flapping about her. She looked a bit like a small bat now, because her robes were a little too big for her. Perhaps her parents assumed she would grow into them. "You two really had better change!" She said in a voice that belonged to a mother telling a child not to finger paint on the wall. "Bye!" She walked out after giving them a small wave.

"Stupid MudBlood." Scowled Draco. Neville didn't stop to ask what he'd meant. "I hope I'm not in the same house as her." He said.

"What house are you going to be in?" He asked.

"Slytherin probably." He sighed. "I don't really want to be. My Mother and Father both were. My Father will probably be angry if I'm not a Slytherin."

"Don't they give you a choice?"

"What?" Asked Draco. He didn't like being made to feel stupid.

"Well if you don't want to be in Slytherin just say so."

"Better a Slytherin than a Hufflepuff."

Neville sighed. "I bet I'll be in Hufflepuff. Or worse! I'll get sent back home!"

"I'm sure you won't be." Draco said. Neville guessed this was the closest he was going to get to kindness. "Tell you what, the Ministry's in uproar! Did you hear about Gringotts? There's been a break in, someone tried to rob one of the high security vaults."

"Really?" Neville's eyes widened. "But someone would be mad to try and rob Gringotts!"

"Yeah that's what Father said." His posh tone would have annoyed some, but Neville was just greatful for the company. "They haven't even gotten caught yet. Most people think You Know Who's behind it, but Father says that's probably a lot of nonesense."

Neville was just taking this in, when the compartment door slid open again, but it wasn't the ginger boy looking for a rat, or the noisy Hermione Granger. A boy and a girl entered. The girl had black hair , and big brown eyes. She was glowering horribly. She was already wearing her robes, and hid slightly behind the boy. Her hair was hanging in two straight plaits down her back. The boy had black hair, a slightly pointed nose, and bright green eyes. His lips were in a kind of smirk, and he seemed quite interested in Neville. "They're saying that Neville Longbottom was in this compartment." He smirked. "So it's you?" He asked.

"This is Pansy." He said. "We just met." He scowled when Neville didn't answer. "So it's true? You're Longbottom?"

Neville nodded. "Yes." He said slowly.

"My name's Potter. Harry Potter." He said. He looked at Draco. "And you're a Malfoy." He said. "My Father told me all about the Mafloys." He was obviously looking down his nose. "You don't want to go making friends with the son of a death eater." He said to Neville. "My Father's told me all about what his Father was, is even. Quite high with You-Know-Who they were too. Probably in on it when he killed your parents." He gave a small snigger. "Pure blood isn't everything." He held out his hand to Neville.

Neville didn't shake it. "I don't think it really matters who Draco's dad was." He said finally and coolly.

Harry didn't blink, he just scowled. "My Father's told me all about Mafloys." He said slowly. "They were the first to come back to our side, the right side, after You-Know-Who disapeared. They said they'd been bewitched. Course my Father says that's a load of bull. They didn't need an excuse to go to the Dark side. Like Father like son."

"I've said already," Said Neville quite truthfully. "I don't care what his Dad is."

"Take care Longbottom." Harry turned swiftly, not shutting the door gently behind him.

A second later Hermione Granger had come in to bother them once more. "Honestly!" She sighed. "You better put your robes on! I've just been up the front to ask, and we're nearly there! Honestly, didn't I say you'd better to it earlier?" She said in a rather snobbish voice.

"Do you mind leaving while we change?" Draco demanded, he glared at her. "I just don't want to be changing in front of the likes of you."

"And what would that mean?" She demanded.

"Nothing." He said.

"Good!" She turned her nose in the air, and departed. Draco gave her another glare as she left. Neville hoped there wouldn't be too much tention in between them. He looked out of the window, and noticed it was getting quite dark now. Everything was starting to become blurred, forests under a deep purple sky. The lakes were a deep blue, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. He pulled his robe on top of his dark jumper, they were a little long for him, so that he would grow into them. Draco's were a perfect fit, and had silver embroidery around the edges. A booming voice echoed through the carriges, sneaking its way into each compartment like smoke. "We shall be reashing Hogwarts shortly. Kindly leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school seperately."

Neville's stomach lurched. He felt bad having eaten earlier now, and was worried he might throw up. Draco looked even paler. Neville put the Chocolate Frog Card in his pocket, and they joined the crowd that was forming in the corridor. As the train slowed down and finally stopped lurching into the station, people pushed toward the door. They came out onto a tiny dimly lit dark platform. Neville shivered. The difference in the temperature was noticable. A lamp came bobbing through the crowd, over the heads of the students, and a friendly voice called. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" It belonged to a large hairy face that beamed at all of the children.

"What is he?" Murmured Draco. Neville thought this was quite insulting but smiled at the man.

"Firs' years! C'mon follow me! Any more firs' years?" He asked. He directed them slipping and stumbling up a steep and narrow path, along either side were thick trees. Neville sniffed once or twice, feeling that his nose was about to start running. He almost fell over his own feet at once point. And he thought Draco might be laughing at him, but he didn't care. It was what friends did, laugh at each other. His stomach lurched again with nerves. "Just around this bend here!" The giant of a man called.

"Wow." Neville breathed, the path had come to a lake. Perched at the top of a very high mountain, on the other side of the dark beautiful lake its windows sparking like stars against the sky stood a magnificent tower with turrets and towers. It stood out, in a good way against the countryside that surrounded it. It was beautiful, but quite scary in an odd way.

"Only four to a boat!" The large man called. There were boats sitting just at the edge of the water. Neville slipped and almost landed in the mud, but was caught by their guide, for such a large man he had amazing reflexes. "Careful there." He said gently, setting down in one of the closest boats.

Draco scrambled into the boat too, hugging his robes closely around him. He gave a dirty look to Hermione as she clambered in, and the Weasley boy followed them in. "Everyone in?" The man called, he had a boat to himself and looked like he needed it. His boat sunk into the water slightly. "Ok then- FORWARD!" He called, and the small fleet of boats moved off together in unison. They glided across the lake, which looked like a broken mirror reflecting the moon. Everyone was very quiet, no one whispered, no one even dared to breath loudly. They stared up at the great castle they were aproaching. It was towering above them, like a monster, as they sailed closer and closer.

They all ducked when the boats took them through a curtain made of ivy, they sped along a dark tunnel (this reminded Neville of Gringotts) and stopped finally in an underground harbor. They clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles. The giant man was checking the boats as they climbed out, to make sure no one had forgotten anything. Luckily no one had. There was no other sign of life in the small passageway they climbed out into, and trudged along, until they came to damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. The grass looked like it had not seen sunshine for a long time, almost grey in the moonlight. They stood, crowded in front of a huge Oak door. "Everyone here?" The man asked. He raised one of his gigantic fists, and knocked thrice upon the door.

Neville shuddered. This felt like something out of a horrorfilm. Was there some dreadful monster about to jump out on them from behind the door? He wouldn't put anything past the place now. The door swung open, creaking slightly. Instead of a monster, stood an equally hideous woman. She had black hair that was tied tightly back in a bun, and wore robes of emarld. She had a stern expression that reminded Neville of his Grandmother. He laughed silently to himself. Hogwarts was becoming more and more like his home already!


	7. Chapter 7

"Thank you Hagrid." The woman nodded. "I shall take them from here." Her tone was polite and slightly patronising.

Hagrid grinned bowing his head slightly in respect. Neville theorised he hadn't eaten anyone yet, so he couldn't be that bad. "All yours Professor McGonagall." He nodded to her.

The Professor opened the door fully, leading them across the flagged stone floor. A beautiful marble staircase faced them, leading to some of the upper floors. It was like a castle, Neville thought, it was a castle! The ceiling was so far up, that Neville wondered if there even was one. Along the stone walls were flaming torches to light their way. Neville thought that if he even breathed loudly, it would echo around the enterance hall causing everyone to stare at him. So he tried not to. The size of the place gobsmacked him. The Professor led them to a small empty room off of the hall, away from a doorway that must have led to the rest of the school. They could hear the droning voices of hundreds of students and professors from it. All of the first years crowded into it, standing close together due to the nerves. Some of them were visible shaking, Hermione was muttering something to herself, and Neville found himself sweating slightly.

"Welcome," She paused. "To Hogwarts." She nodded curtly at all of them. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, however before you take your seats in the Great Hall you will all be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is incredibly important, because while you are here, your house will be your family. You will have classes with your house, sleep in a dormitory with your house members and spend part of your free time with your house." She nodded aprovingly. "There are four houses within Hogwarts. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Each house has its own noble history, and each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards."

"Like Dumbledore.." One boy murmured.

McGonagall caught his eye giving him a glare that told him not to talk across her. "While you attend Hogwarts your triumphs will earn your house points. However rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house." She stopped glaring at the boy and looked around. "The sorting Ceremony will take place in a few moments. Why don't you all try to smarten up while you wait?" She looked at all of them. Neville tugged at his cloak hoping he hadn't ripped it. He tried to drag his fingers through his hair, he hadn't brushed it. He nervously bit his lip. "I will return when we are ready for you." She informed them. "Please wait here quietly.

As soon as she left the whispers began. They didn't talk much, apart from Hermione whom was wispering so fast it was hard to understand what she was saying. They were all terrified. Neville looked at the redheaded boy beside him. "How do they sort us?" He asked. He wondered why he hadn't thought of this before.

"Fred said there was a test that hurts a lot." He murmured. "I think he was joking. It's some sort of test." He sounded incredibly uncertain.

"In front of the school?" Neville's face emited horror. He didn't even know any magc! What if they sent him home? It would be so embarassing. He tried to block out Hermione's constant chatter. He really wanted someone to tell her to shut up. Not in a nasty way. But in a kind, please stop talking way.

"Just shut up ok!" Draco turned to her angrily.

She scowled, furrowing her brow deeply. "I was only-"

"I don't care!" He spat. "Don't."

"Fine." She huffed crossing her arms in front of her. "I won't."

As she said that, about twenty ghosts streamed through the wall. They were a pearly white, slightly transparent and glided across the room talking to each other. They seemed to be arguing about something. But not aggresively. Debating was probably the right word. They didn't pay much attention to the first years, instead carried on talking amongst them selves. When they were about halfway across the room a ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed them. "Oh my, what are you doing here?" He asked.

The Fat Friar smiled, he was what looked like a little fat monk. His eyes were dreamy, as if he thought of many things at one time. "New Students?" he asked then nodded to himself. "About to be sorted am I right?" A few studens nodded. "Oh I do hope to see you in Hufflepuff."

"Slytherin will be waiting for you."

"Oh no! Gryffindor is by far the better!" Cried one ghost. "I was a Gryffindor..." He started to murmur to himself. "You know-"

He was interupted by McGonagall. "Move along!" She said in a sharp voice. "The sorting Ceremony's about to start." One by one the ghosts floated through the opposite wall. "Form a line in an orderly fashion!" She told them. "And follow me now!"

Neville decided even had he not wanted to follow he would have had to. The order in her voice was strong, and it was the kind one could not disobey. He got in line behind the Potter boy, and with the boy who'd lost a rat behind him, walked out of the chamber back acoss the enterance hall and through the large double doors that led into the Great Hall. Neville had never seen anything like the place, not that he'd of course seen a lot. It was truly magnificent. Lit by thousands of candles floating in midair over four long tables students sat in a hublle of chatter. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets not laden with food yet. At the front of the hall was a single long table where all the teachers sat. They looked proud as the children were led by McGonagall up in front of them so that they faced the students with the teachers sitting directly behind. What seemed like hundreds of eyes stared up at them like candles, some students eyes, some teachers and some silvery ghost's eyes. Neville looked at the floor then at the roof, it was velvety black and dotted with stars. He gasped slightly.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky." Whispered Hermione. "I read about it in Hogwarts a History."

Neville nodded clenching his fists to stop himself from shaking. It looked so real, he wondered what would happen if it was real. The candles would probably go out if it rained. He glanced at the Professor again, and saw she had placed a small four legged stool in front of them. On top of the stool was a pointed wizard's hat. It was patched and frayed and dirty. He imagined what his Gramdmother would stay if she'd have seen the state of it! She would have done a much better needle work job on it. He wondered what they had to do with it. Everyone else was staring at it and so he stared at it too. At least that way he fitted in. The hat jerked, then twitched and suddenly braking the silence that had been created opened a rip near the brim like a mouth. It began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty! But don't judge what you see. I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me! You can keep your bowlers black, your top hats sleek and tall. For I'm the Hogwarts sorting hat and I can cap them all." Neville gasped at the lyrics. "There's nothing hidden in your head The sorting hat can't see. So try me on, and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart."

Neville decided he probably didn't belong in Gryffindor.

"You might belong to Hufflepuff where they are just and loyal. Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, and unafraid to toil."

Neville didn't know what toil ment but he decided he was probably afraid to do it.

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw if you've a ready mind. Where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind."

Neville could hear Hermione's breathing quicken with nerves finally attacking her. She probably belonged there, he figured. But there was no way he had a quick mind, so he ruled that out.

"Or perhaps in Slytherin you'll make your real friends. Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends."

He didn't think he was cunning, so he wasn't a Slytherin.

"So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands, though I have none for I'm a thinking cap!" The whole hall burst into applause like flames lapping through the castle. The claps echoed as the aht finished its song. It then bowed to each of the four tables, and then became still again. "So we've just got to try on a hat!" Ron whispered. Neville found himself breathing again for he had been holding his breath. "I'll get Fred for going on about troll wrestling!"

Neville smiled incredibly weakly. Trying on a hat was sure a lot better than doing anything hard. But still everyone was watching, and the hat was asking quite a bit. Neville wasn't brave or quick witted at the moment. He wished the hat had mentioned a house for people who just want to prove themselves and try to be brave and clever and loyal just not quite succeed. That was the house he'd belong to. What if the hat declared there had been a mistake and sent him back? Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "Please when I call your name go the stool and put on the hat. You will then be sorted. Abbot, Hannah!" She called. A girl with blonde pigtails and a rather pink face stumbled out of line, put the hat on which fell over her eyes and sat down. A moment later.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted. The table of Hufflepuff cheered as she went to join them, the Fat Friar waved at her. She still lookde pettrified.

"Bones, Susan!" Susan ran up to the stool almost falling over her feet.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted again and she scuttled off like a spider to sit beside Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!" Became a Ravenclaw, and so did "Brocklehurst, Mandy" but a girl called "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor. Gryffindor table exploded with cheers and cat calling.

Neville started to feel queasy. For some people the hat took mere mili seconds to decide, for others it deliberated for longer. Hermione Granger sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" Which made Ron groan. Neville wondered what happened if he wasn't chosen. Would they sent him to get back on the train or what?

"Longbottom, Neville!" They cry echoed through the hall. Whispers broke out throughout the hall and a few people tried to crane their necks to get a look at him. They spread like wildfire.

Neville hurried up to the stool and tripped over his feet as he sat on the stool. He rammed the hat onto his head. It barely touched his ears before it screamed. "GRYFFINDOR!" There was no question in the hat's cry, no deliberation. Neville almost wanted to ask if it was sure. But stopped himself from doing so. He started towards Gryffindor table, realised he still had the hat on then had to jog back to give it to the next boy. At least he'd made his table laugh. He was patted on the shoulder by many as he sat down, and his house boasted that they had got Longbottom. Neville blushed.

Draco was next, and Neville stared at him. He wondered what house Draco was going to go to. He swagered towards the stool, in what Neville assumed to be fake confidence. "Not Slytherin?" The hat whispered into Draco's ear. "Oh that is difficult. There'll be courage. Not a bad mind, you'll be good." Draco gritted his teeth, Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin he thought. "Not Slytherin?" The hat asked again. "Well, that's odd. You could be amazing in Slytherin, it would help you. Are you sure? Yes you are. Better be...GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall, as a gasp spread throughout the students. No one said a word.

"Malfoy?" Whispered a fifth year Ravenclaw. "Aren't they death eaters?"

"His whole family's been in Slytherin though.."

The Gryffindor's weren't sure if they should clap or not. The silence echoed, and then from behind him came a clapping. Albus Dumbledore clapped his hands together rhythmatically. Neville clapped too. Slowly the rest of the Gryffindor's started to clap, uncertainly, but they cheered.

"Take your place with your house Mr Malfoy." Professor McGonagall ordered. Draco nodded, scurrying shakily toward the table. He was relieved to not be in Slytherin, but also felt some kind of rush of excitement. Neville was surrounded by students, but when Draco sat down they seemed to move away. They split from Neville like Draco had the plauge.

"Potter, Harry!"

"Isn't he the son of that Quiditch player?" Asked Percy the Prefect.

"Maybe you can ask him to sign you an autograph!" One of the Weasley twins yelled.

It took the sorting hat a whole two minutes to decide on which house Harry went to. And then it yelled it's answer to the hall. Slytherin table errupted in cat calls and cheers. There were only three people left to be sorted. And then there were two.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

The redheaded boy was a pale green colour by now, and Neville hoped he got into the house he wanted to be in. He was sure the boy was shaking. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat screeched a moment later.

Neville clapped loudly with everyone else as Ron came and sat down with his brother's. Blaise Zabini was the last to be sorted, a proud Slytherin when Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the hat away. Neville stared at the empty golden plate wondering why on earth there was nothing on them. It didn't feel right. Finally Dumbledore got to his feet, he beamed down at the students as if there was nowhere in the world he would rather be. "Welcome!" He cried. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet there are a few words I would like to say. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down as everybody clapped and cheered. Neville wasn't sure if he should laugh or not. He leaned over to the boy with the prefects badge.

"Is he ok in the head?"

"Ok?" Percy repeated. "He's brilliant! Best wizard in the world! But he is a little mad. Potatoes Neville?" He asked. Neville's mouth opened, the dishes were now piled with food. He'd never seen so many beautiful things he would like to eat on one table. There were all different kinds of meat. Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamp chops, bacon and steak! There were boiled potatoes, roast potatoes and fries. Yorkshire pudding, peas carrot gravy, ketchup and in their own golden dish peppermint humbugs.

"Are we allowed to take anything we like?" He asked.

"Of course!" Percy laughed airily.

Neville helped himself to a small amount of everything, even the peppermints. It was delicious. He cut up his steak as a ghost passed by. "Neville Longbottom!" The ghost held his hand out.

Neville took it, his hand passing through that of the ghosts. "Sorry!"

"Oh no need! Have I introduced myself? I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy- Porpington, at your service. I am the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione sighed. "Honestly Ronald, how can you be nearly headless?"

Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington turned to her and showed her. "Do you mind Sir Nicholas?" Percy asked. "I'm eating!"

Nearly Headless Nick laughed, before disapearing to talk to some of the other ghosts. Once they had eaten more than they could possible manage the remains of the food disapeared, before the plates were refilled with all the icecream and cakes and jellies you could imagine. Neville helped himself to a piece of strawberry sponge cake as the talk turned to families.

A boy called Seamus told Neville that his Dad was a Muggle. "Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'till after they were married! Bit of a nasty shock for him!"

The others laughed. "It would be wouldn't it?" Ron said.

"What about you Draco?" Seamus asked.

Draco paused. "Not much to say." He finally said. He didn't want to say too much. "My Father is a wizard, my Mother is a witch."

Ron squirmed slightly. "Death Eaters." Was a word that came from his muffled cough. Draco said nothing, so Ron didn't persue the subject.

Percy and Hermione were talking about lessons. Neville overheard that Hermione particularly liked transfiguration, but she was afraid it would be difficult. He cringed, if it would be difficult for her then he'd never understand it. Neville watched the teacher's as the others continued to talk. Proffessor Quirrell and his wacky turban was talking to another teacher, with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and pale skin. As the hook nosed teacher looked at Neville, a sharp pain shot through his scar. "Ouch!" He clapped his hand onto his forehead as it burnt.

"Are you ok?" Percy demanded.

"Y-yea." He murmured. The pain had left him so quickly. The hook nosed teacher turned his attention to the Slytherin table. He stared at where the first years were laughing. He stood like a bat, and stalked to them saying something to them about behaving in a proper fashion. "Who's that?" He asked pointing at him.

Percy grimaced. "That's Professor Snape."

One of the twins butted in. "He teaches Potions Neville. Can I call you Nev? I'm going to call you Nev ok Nev? He doesn't want to mind!"

The other interupted him. "Everyone knows he's after Quirell's job! He knows loads about the Dark Arts!"

The feast ended shortly after that. They sang the Hogwart's Anthem Fred and George singing to a funeral march, Neville tried to sing along to a happier tune. Dumbledore gave them a short message, something about the third floor. But Neville hadn't been listening. He was already tired. It was a good thing tomorrow was a Friday. It meant they had the weekend to relax. He wondered what the day would hold.

Their first lesson was Potions with the Slytherins. However, they hadn't gotten further than sitting down when there was a sharp knock at the door. The batlike teacher stood up, pulling it wide open a grimace of distate on his face.

Their common room was beautiful. An amazing array of arm chairs and comfortable blankets lined the common room. Percy showed the boys to their dormitory, before leaving them there. Their first lesson the next day was potions, and Neville dreaded it. The potion's master looked scarier than McGonagall. But the next day, they had barely sat down in their seats when James Potter stormed into the classroom demanding to speak to Professor Snape.


	8. Chapter 8

The rumours had started as soon as Neville left Gryffindor tower. Throughout breakfast people tried to get a look at him, trying to see his scar, trying to get his autograph. One third year girl asked for a lock of his hair. But it all stopped when they got to their potions lesson. It was taught in one of the dungeons and that meant it was colder than anywhere else in the castle. It was even colder because of the fact that Severus Snape taught it. But they had barely sat down, when James Potter burst in, demanding to speak to their teacher.

"Potter, I think it would be better if we took this outside my classroom." Snape spat. He had lurched toward the door barely finishing taking the register. "You are here to learn the subtle and spesific act of potion making. Turn to page sixty three now!" The class stared at him. He hadn't even told them what to do. "I said page sixty three! You can start by reading that chapter!"

James laughed. "The same, snivelling Snape as you've always been then?" He asked.

"Potter do you mind, I'm trying to teach a lesson."

"And I'm trying not to gag at the sight of your face. Neither of us are succeeding well." James smirked. He ran a hand through his dark locks.

"Potter." Snape snarled. "I'd prefer it if we took this outside." He looked at the class, first years were always an odd bunch to teach. They were either over nervous or over confident. He didn't really enjoy teaching any of them. None of them had turned to the right page, well none apart from one. The Granger girl with the dark bushy hair was reading the chapter so quickly he thought that she'd probably finish it any second. "Well start reading!" He bellowed.

"Not man enough to talk in here?" James mocked. "Not able to talk like a civilised human being?"

"Potter." Snape warned. A young girl raised her hand timidly. Snape turned to face her fully. "What is it Parkinson?" He snapped.

"Are you James Potter?" She asked finally, stuttering the words. Neville recognised her as the girl who had been with Harry on the train. The man towering in the doorway must have been Harry's dad.

"Yes I am." He grinned turning to her.

She blushed. "You were the Seeker for Puddlemere United?"

He nodded aprovingly. "Youngest to make the team, oldest to leave." He winked at her. "I suppose you want an autograph?" He asked. "I'm a coach now of course." He grinned.

Snape glared at him. "You will not be giving autographs in my lessons!" He snapped.

James shrugged. "Who am I making it out to?" He asked as he aproached her table. He nodded to his son. "She'll be a looker when she's older Harry."

Pansy Parkinson blushed. "Pansy." She managed to say, she seemed to be shaking from behind her desk. Harry sat by her, he didn't have his book open either.

James pulled a photograph of himself from his robes. "To Pansy," he spoke as he wrote. "Study well and party well. Love from James Potter." He scribbled with the quill.

"Ten points from Slytherin!" Snape shouted. "None of my own house have their books open!" He glared at the Gryffindors. "Ten points from Gryffindor! None but Granger have their books open!" This was untrue. Neville had his book open. Just not on the right page.

"But Sir!" Pansy objected.  
>"Miss Parkinson I am perfectly able to take points from my own house." He barked. "Potter outside now. The rest of you, including you boy," he glared at Harry. "Will read onward from page 63 and then you will copy the chapter. If anyone has not finished by the time this lesson ends you will be in detention for a week! This is not the way I wish for my first lesson with you to go! Do you understand me?" He glared at them. "I said do you understand me?" The class nodded together in silence. "You will answer when you are spoken to!" He hissed.<p>

"Yes Sir!"

"Good." He swooped toward the door. "Do IT!" He slammed the dungeon door after him.

Outside in the corridor James Potter squared up to him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He bellowed, his shout echoed throughout the corridor. Bouncing off the cold stone walls and back.

"I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about." The coldness in Snape's voice was the substitute for James shouts. But the anger was matched.

"I know how you feel about Lily. In your sick twisted way you love her! Just get over it. She will never ever love you, it's time you except that! Who the hell would love you over me?" The spite in his voice was clear, it was bitter and it hurt.

Snape didn't bat an eyelid however. "Is that why you're here Potter?" He asked calmly. "To scream at me about your wife. I would keep your voice down. Although these walls would hold against the less sophisticated dark spells, they don't prevent your voice from travelling. Your son is in my lesson and I'm afraid I think your cries my embarass him."

James glared at him. "Meaning?" He demanded. Though it was quite obvious what he meant. "I'm not here about Lily. You're the one who's obsessed with my wife! Don't you get it? She's mine. She will never be yours. She will never love you. Ever."

"Then could you kindly inform me on why you are here?" Snape had trouble keeping his voice under control. He'd had a lot of practice doing it though. He was used to James by now. But he wished that the man would get to the point. Naturally the ones that wrote fast had finished the chapter and of course were peering out from a crack in the door. Snape didn't doubt that if he pushed the door open they'd all fall back away from it. He could hear whispered gasps already.

"Because of my son!" James bellowed. "Because of what you're doing!"

"And what am I doing?" He smirked.

James didn't use his wand, and Snape couldn't blame him for not. James had never been that great. He'd been an ok student, ok slightly above average. But quidittch was where his talent lay. That and trouble making. He rolled his eyes as he shielded himself with a charm. The man had always been arrogant and preffered to do things in a physical way than in a magical way. Either that or he used magic to inflict physical pain. He liked things like that. James was knocked backward about ten foot by Snape's shield. He swore as he hit the wall, slumping slightly, but he was up on his feet in next to no time. "You know exactly what you're doing Snivellus. You know what you're doing. You've stolen my son!" He roared.

Snape played the innocent, which was easier than usual because he honestly was innocent this time. "I have not _stolen _your son Potter." He grimaced.

"Yes you have!" James repeated. "You tampered with the sorting! You you- you must have done something! My son is NOT a SLYTHERIN!"

"I had nothing to do with your son's sorting." Snape smirked again. The man was getting wound up so easily, it was almost no fun.

"You had something to do with it! I'm complaining! I'll have him moved!"

"Then I suggest you go to Professor Dumbledore." The malicious advice seeped in Snape's voice.

"I'll do what I like!" James found his face less than an inch away from Snape's. But the greasy haired Potion's teacher did not flinch. "You can't tell me what to do." He hissed.

Snape didn't move. When they were younger he'd have been cowering, but he had grown and now they were the same height James Potter didn't seem that much of a threat. "Potter, I know your small monkey mind might not be capable of taking in information quickly, but you will listen to me. I am no happier to have your son in my house than you are. However I can do nothing to change that, and the sorting hat does not make a mistake. You will not move your son from this school because Lily would never allow it. And thirdly any complaints you wish to submit will be given directly to Albus Dumbledore. So please take your complaints to him alone."

James' eyes glowed with fury in that moment. "You know nothing of my or my wife's thoughts!" He snapped viciously like a dog at raw meat. "Impedimenta!" He screamed.

"Protego!" Snape was quick to deffend, as soon as James' lips and wand moved he was already protecting himself. "Incancerous!"

"Incendio!" James pushed Snape's curse aside. "Levicorpus!"

His attack was too quick for Snape, who was slammed into a statue before being dangled upside down by an ankle in the air. His robes fell around him, before he managed to flip himself upward against the charm. "Liberacorpus!" He cried, letting himself down.

"Mr Potter!" Minerva McGonagall hurried down the corridor her heels clicking along the floor. She had her wand ready, but stowed it away when she saw that Snape was as much in control as James was.

Snape's arm raised. "Ventus!" He flicked his wand pushing James backward.

"Professor Snape! Control yourself!" McGonagall begged. "And Mr Potter you will not attack students in this school."

"Flipendo!" James managed to stand once again, his attack was knocked by Snape's deffence. _Snivellus _had gotten better since they'd left school. Surprisingly he thought smugly to himself. But his jinx was cast aside by Professor Dumbledore's snap of the wand. The crack was like the snap guillotine falling.

"Mr Potter put away your wand at once. Or I will have to ask you to leave." He adressed James. None of the first years had seen him angry before, but the snarl in his voice scared them. "Professor Snape, you will not resort to that kind of behaviour. I believe you have a lesson to conduct so would you please return to it?" It was less of a question and more of an order. "And Professor McGonagall kindly escort Mr Potter to my office, I will be with him shortly. I have a small matter to attend to with Mr Malfoy, regarding his son's sorting."

Snape nodded. "Of course." He said finally.

"I will have words with you later."

Yes, thought Severus Snape. Dumbledore always had words with him, always. "Of course." He repeated nodding. He straightened his robes.

"Bye Snivellus." James scowled over his shoulder. "Stay away from my son. And stay away from Lily."

"James please-" Professor Dumbledore tried.

James was already heading down the corridor. "I know the way to your office. She sent me there enough!" He directed a finger at McGonagall.

"None the less Mr Potter, we can't have you wondering the corridors now can we?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape turned curtly on his heels, and pushed open the door to his classroom. "Who has not finished copying the chapter?" He bellowed to the class. He felt his head spinning. Eager faces stared up at him. No one had raised their hands, that was good. They looked half shocked, half scared. "What is a bezoar?" He demanded. "Longbottom! Our class celebrity!"

"Urm.." Neville tried, he felt the class looking at him.

"Mr Malfoy!" Snape pointed at the boy shaking beside him. "What is it?"

"Uh..uh.." He stuttered. "It's a stone..from a goat's stomach.."

"Good!" Snape bellowed. His eyes were like a hawks, they focused on James, no Harry Potter. He reminded himself that the boy was called Harry. The boy looked like his father Snape thought. The spitting image of his father. The black hair, the attitude. "Potter." He spat. "What's it used for?"

I don't know Snivellus.

James' voice echoed in his mind. "I don't know." Harry said. The confidence was full and airy.

"Ignorance!" Snape bellowed, he put a hand on the desk supporting himself.

"Sir?" The Granger girl raised her hand. "Are you ok Sir?" Concern was obvious in her voice.

"It's used to cure most poisons!" He snapped. "Are you noting this Potter? Because I don't care who your Dad was. I don't care who your Daddy is. I don't care!" His words were spat across the class.

"Sir?" The Granger girl repeated. Severus felt nasuated, the same nausiation that came after dreams of the Dark Lord. "Professor?"

He stumbled forward slightly. Why wouldn't the girl just shut up? Why did the child have to insist on talking to him? "What would I get if I added root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" No one answered. "A sleeping draught so strong it is called the Living Death!" He bellowed across the sea of faces.

"Sir are you ok?" Longbottom tried this time. Snape felt his vision blurring. His head was pounding with screams.

The Granger girl made to stand up. "Stay in your seat Miss Granger!" He bellowed at her but she disobeyed him. "Get away from me!"

He felt her hands on his arm, holding him before he fell. "I-I told you to sit down." His words were slurred, barely auidble. "Fifty points from-from-"

"Draco! Get a teacher!" The Granger girl shrieked. "Now!"


	9. Chapter 9

Severus Snape sat in his office, huddled away from the rest of the school. He was cold, even though it was only the start of September. He felt better now, at least he thought he might. He wanted to hate Harry, just as much as he hated James. But he couldn't. Lily would never forgive him for it. He wanted to hate Lily too, to hate her, despise her. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, she'd smile at him, and all that burning anger would melt away to nothing. There was one person he could hate, and that was James Potter. At that moment he wanted to crush James Potter with his bare hands, to strangle him, to make him suffer, make him bleed. He didn't wish death upon James, no, he just wanted him to suffer. He felt spite rise in his throat, and took a swig from the fire whisky.

He enjoyed teaching at Hogwarts. It made him happy. He didn't understand how, but there was some satisfaction when an intelligent student passed through his class. But the others made him hate it. He still didn't understand why Dumbledore let him keep the job. After all he'd done. That was one thing that made his heart ache. All he had done that had and could hurt Lily. James could rot in hell, but he wouldn't have harm coming to Lily. He remembered the pain on the night when Dumbledore told him Voldermort had carried out his plan. But the Dark Lord hadn't gone for Lily like Snape had thought he would. Instead he had gone after the Longbottom's. Severus Snape didn't understand why this descision was made, or how, but he was glad. Guilt overwhelmed him for a second as he thought of how selfish his wish had been. Save Lily. He made himself think of the flash of green light that must have ended two doting parents's lives.

There was a sharp knock on his door. He put his elbows on the desk, supporting his head in his hands. He was going through the motions of marking and setting potions work. It was a pathetic mime however, he just couldn't concentrate. He thought it was probably a student playing knock door run, they liked doing that now. He sighed. There was another knock.

"Enter." He called. He didn't add 'at your own risk'. He felt like cursing someone now.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice was cautious.

Snape opened his dark eyes, blinking as he attempted to focus his eyes properly. He looked up groggily as the headmaster's face became clear finally. "I think," he said slowly. "I am ill." He paused. "I am aware that it is early in the year, however I wish to take time off."

"Oh no Severus, I am not intending on letting you wallow in self pity. I know that it is hard on you, to be teaching Harry, and of course Neville, however I am afraid I can not find a substitute for you."

"Just go away." He held his head. "Please."

"Severus Snape take control of yourself." Dumbledore said sharply. "I have asked Mr Potter to leave."

"But that's all." Snape snapped. "That's all. It's all you ever did. You ask him nicely. He's still your favourite. After all of this time."

"Severus, there is no room for favouritism in my job." He smiled sadly. "I suggest you join us for dinner in the Great Hall."

"I am not hungry." Snape said. "I have work to do."

"Severus, it is a Wednesday. The second Wednesday of term. No one has work to do yet."

"I am not hungry." He repeated calmly.

"You will eat." Dumbledore's tone was harsh. It was one that was not questioned. "What would she think if she could see you now?"

"What exactly do you intend on doing?" Snape turned to face the headteacher properly. "Bringing her here, so she can watch me eat?

"Oh no. I will of course let you sort out your love life in your own time. I as a headteacher have quite a hard time keeping up with the students. If I included the lives and loves of my Professor's I find it would be quite impossible!"

"You don't understand!"

"Ah Severus, those are words I here often." He sighed a long sigh, as if remembering about something that had happened a long long time ago.

"I love her." Severus said slowly.

"I know Severus, I know. But you'll love someone else."

"You're wrong!" He snapped. "I'll always love her."

"Severus, Severus, Severus." He paused. "You are as stubborn as a child. I never said you would stop loving her. Simply that you will love someone else."

"How do you know?" He demanded. "How can you be sure?"

Dumbledore sighed again. "Because, Professor. I am Albus Dumbledore." He moved towards the door. "I expect you to be in the Great Hall within ten minutes."

Snape nodded as the man left. He wanted to say so many things to him. To tell him he didn't know everything, that even Albus Dumbledore was partially blind. He wanted to scream and shout like a teenager once more. But he refused to. Because that would mean James won. James always won.

Many things had been missed at Hogwarts before. It wasn't a large school, but it wasn't of the smallest numbers either. It was so easy to overlook little details. No one had noticed the hours of torment he was submitted to by James, it was as if even James hadn't realised he was doing it. People always seemed to notice when Snape attacked him back. No one noticed the scars. No one noticed the tears. Snape learned not to cry at Hogwarts, it was something you just didn't do. But still no one noticed any of the tears that were cried silently. Not one teacher found out about the cuts, not one teach noticed the scars. He didn't think James would ever have stopped had Lily not stepped in. For that he was greatful. He sighed, running a hand through his hair he stood up, tugging at his robes to tidy them slightly. He shut the book that had been open on his wooden desk, and started towards the Great Hall.

The next day was Thursday. The first years were excited, and it took Severus a moment to figure out why. Then he realised that flying lessons were starting. They always started on a Thursday, and the first years were always excited. He was slightly disapointed to find that Gryffindor and Slytherin were learning together, but it didn't bother him too much. He had much greater things to worry about. He had to find out what the sneaky Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was up to. That was, after all what Dumbledore had suggested the night before.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life. Ever. Ever. Ever. He had never actually had both feet further than two foot off the ground. He had fallen over many times, but that was while he was walking. He had so many accidents while he kept his feet on the ground he absoulutely dreaded flying. Draco talked about flying a lot. The boys who shared their dormitory had started to warm to him, as he joined in their conversations. They all talked about flying around the country side, and Quidditch and more flying. Neville was almost glad that Hermione was as nervous as flying as he was. During breakfast she kept giving him all these tips about flying, except he kept forgetting them and she kept repeating herself which made him forget more. Harry talked about flying too, and how good he was at it. He said he was trying for the team even if he was a first year. He said they'd be mad not to let them on it. He told the Slytherins and everyone who would listen about who his Dad was, and about what had happened in potions.

When it finally came around to the flying lessons, it was obvious that tension had been brewing. Neville hurried down the steps to the grounds where the flying lesson would be. He fell over his feet and gained a bruise on his face as he did so. It wasn't a bruise yet, but he knew it was going to be one. The Slytherins were all down there already, standing by twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines. Neville tried to remember what Hermione had said, but his mind kept going back to what Fred and George Weasley had talked about how bad the brooms were.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch arrived shortly after them. She looked at them as if they were stupid for not starting. "Come on then. Stand by a broom." Neville hurried, almost falling over two of the brooms as he did so. "Stick your rigth hand voer your broom and say up!" She informed them.

Neville looked at his broom. It was very old and looked as if it was falling to pieces. "Urm..up!" He said.

Harry's broom was already in his hand. As was Draco's. Neville looked around. "Up! Up! Up!" Hermione was shouting, but her broom was simply rolling about on the floor. She was getting frustrated, her cheeks a deep red. "Up!"

"Up?" Neville asked. "Up? Please? Up?" Almost everyone had gotten their brooms to jump to their hands. But Neville hadn't. He wondered if anyone would notice if he picked it up. But everyone seemed to be staring at him. Perhaps they expected a lot of him, more than they should have.

"Longbottom can't do it." A Slytherin boy whispered behind his hand.

"I thought he was the chosen one.." A girl whispered, she had dark blonde hair and was gripping her broom tightly.

"Up!" Neville begged. The broom jumped into his hand so quickly he dropped it again. "Up!" He said again. "Up!" It jumped into his hand once more.

The teacher then showed them and told them all about mounting their brooms without sliding off. Neville had little success at this until she came around and showed him again. Finally he was on the broom, and holding on tightly. Hermione was holding her broom so tight that her knuckles were white. "When I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground hard." She told them. Then she told them how to rise and come back down again. Neville almost pushed off to early, almost. Instead as she blew her whistle, he half pushed off and changed his mind half way, before slamming his face into the ground. He heard laughter around him.

Pushing himself up, he pulled himself off the mudy ground. Everyone else was just descending. Harry was laughing along with some of the others. One of the only that wasn't laughing was Draco. Neville was glad of that. He brought his hand to his nose, it was bleeding. "Ew." He said looking at the blood on his fingers.

"It'll be fine in a moment Longbottom. Right let's try that again, this time I want you to hover for me. Understood?" She asked.

All of the children pushed off on her whistle. Hermione was tense, and Madam Hooch told her so, but otherwise her posture was good. Ron looked quite confident on a broom, but as he said, he'd been riding them for a while. Harry was showing off, darting up and down, side to side. He boasted of moves that his Dad had taught him. Neville managed to hover for about thirty seconds, before he dropped like a rock to the floor. As soon as he fell, Hermione fell like she'd been stunned. It was probably the shout when he hit the ground that had scared her, into letting go of the broom while she was in mid air.

"Never mind Longbottom." Madam Hooch told him. "Granger you wered doing good. Right now, we're going to ride in a straight line." She looked at the two students with their feet on the ground. "Well, what are you waiting for, in the air!"

Blood pounded in Neville's ears as he wobbled in a straight line. It was a slightly wonky straight line, but he managed to do it. Most of the first years who had grown up in the wizarding world knew how to fly, but Muggleborns caught on just as quick. By the end of the lesson, Neville managed to go up to six foot on his broom, and managed to not hurt himself that badly. Harry had started showing off to the teacher when they were given time to practise rising and descending. He had done a lot of soaring up and down, turning in mid air, pulling his broomstick to take it higher, before zooming down and diving. Neville realised Harry hadn't been exagarating his skills on a broom. Madam Hooch at the end of the lesson, although it was obvious she wasn't impressed with him, had told him he would do good to try out for the Quidditch team. She had advised Neville against it. She said something about his father, which made Harry smile. By this time, everyone knew about what had happened between Snape and James.

Of course it had been exagarated. According to some James had tried to set Snape's classroom on fire, and Snape had swollen James head to twice it's size. One first year was going around telling people about the love affair going on between Lily and Snape. At dinner Snape was lucky enough to here some of these rumours. He didn't doubt it would be in the Daily Prophet by the next week. It was the kind of thing they would like to print. "International Quidditch star storms into school" "Professor and Seeker's Squabble" "Scrap in the corridors of Hogwarts." He almost poured wine on himself as he thought of the potential headlines. They'd like it even better if they could find something between Lily and Snape. If it wasn't bad enough that James's name was over the newspapers Lily had her fair share of fame. Lily had her own line of potions, most of them were for making a woman more attractive. Snape never understood why someone like her needed to invent something like that.

After dinner both Draco and Neville were rather tired. But instead of being able to go straight to the common room, they were dragged off by Quirrell to help carry some books for him. It took them almost forever to finish, and it was almost curfew by the time they got back to the common room. Then they realised that neither could remember the password. They waited for about half an hour, and then they decided they would have to go find a teacher and tell them. They'd tried explaining to the fat lady, but as Draco said, she was a good for nothing who didn't know how to do her job. Neville didn't really agree, but he didn't say anything.

They decided to try and find Dumbledore's office. They took one staircase up, and two down, and then another few up. Then they turned a corner, and headed back because the Bloody Baron was coming their way. They now realised no one would probably believe them, so they decided they better try and find their way back to the common room. Perhaps if the knocked loud enough someone would hear and come let them in. Neville fell over his robes as they walked along a corridor full of armour, he grabbed Draco as he fell, and they both knocked into the armour. It crashed to the floor making the worst noise imaginable. It would have made his parents wake in their graves, thought Neville, had they not been dead. "We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower!" Neville muttured.

"Really?" The sarcasm in Draco's voice was harsh.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!"

Neville turned on the spot banging into a door that was locked. They could hear the aproaching footsteps of Filch, Neville didn't doubt the man would like to skin them alive. He looked around wildly, he wasn't sure what they were going to do. He knew after all the things they'd knocked over no one would ever believe they'd just been looking for the headmaster's office.

Draco pushed him out of the way. "In here." He murmured.  
>"But it's locked." Neville pointed out.<p>

"Duh." Draco whispered, his eyes darted around the room. "Alohomora."

The door unlocked and the pushed their way into the room, breathing silently their backs to the door. They could hear Filch arguing with Peeves, and heard him walking by. "He thinks it's locked." Neville muttered.

"That's why it should be!" Draco pointed at a hideous beast, a dog so big it's heads hit the ceiling. It had three of them, like a monster from hell. It was drooling now. Neville decided this was a good moment to run, Draco seemed to back the decision. They no longer cared if they got into trouble. It was better than facing the dog. Neville now remembered the few words Dumbledore had said about the third floor being out of bounds. He dragged open the door, and they sprinted from the room. Filch must have gone looking for them somewhere else, because he was no longer there.

They ran half jogged not caring who saw them, begging portraits for help. A kindly wizard with a short grey beard and a bald head gave them directions back to their common room on the seventh floor. He winked and dragged his finger along his lips when he told them he wouldn't tell anyone. Then he started talking to another portrait about how he remembered being a first year. They didn't hang around to here the rest. They hurried back, to where the Fat Lady hung. She scowled at them when they got there.  
>"I've been hanging half open for half an hour!" She pointed out.<p>

"What do you mean?" Neville breathed.

"Ask her!" She scowled as they stepped through the portrait hole, and she swung shut.

Hermione Granger stood behind the portrait hole, in a pink dressing gown, scowling. "Where have you been?" She demanded. "I noticed you weren't here after dinner! Do you know what time it is? You could have been expelled! And you could have lost so many house points!"

"We forgot the password." Draco told her.

"It's pig snout." She snapped. "Neville why are your robes ripped?" She folded her arms across her chest as Draco told her the story. Her frown grew more and more intense as he did so. She licked her lips at one point and Neville's eyes opened wide. He was almost more afraid of her than of the giant dog. She looked as if she were about to devour them. "Well it's guarding something isn't it!" She told them calmly. "Why else would it be there? Isn't it obvious?" She asked them.

Neville nodded, yes it was as obvious as everything Hermione thought was obvious was. He sighed, he was tired. He'd ripped his good robes, and he had a letter he needed to write to his Grandmother. So instead of letting her finish her rant, he headed towards the dormitory. He yawned as he fell shaking onto the bed. He decided he would have to finish the letter the next morning before breakfast. Hermione would remind him. She reminded him of a lot of things.


	10. Chapter 10

Over the next few weeks, word of the adventure had spread to the other boys in the dormitory, and they all huddled together in one corner of the common room discussing what could be going on. This happened when Neville and Draco had finally retold the story for the third time to them. Hermione also joined the boys, not knowing how out of place she really was. Seamus leaned forward, head in his hands. They had pulled a table in the middle of six chairs. They were all huddled around the table like it was a fire. "Knut for your thoughts Neville."

"I've just been thinking." He told them. "That's all."

"About what?" Seamus asked.

"Oh stuff."

Hermione stiffled a stiff laugh. "I suppose your head hurts now then. You don't seem to think often do you?"

"It does actually. I feel like it's going to explode." He told her. They had come back straight after dinner, and had started to talk. "But what would it be gaurding?" He asked.

"I don't know." Draco said. "Is there some sort of treasure at Hogwarts?"

Hermione shook her head. "There wasn't any thing like that mentioned in _Hogwarts a History_." She turned to the others. "Dean? Seamus? Ron?"

"I've never heard about treasure at Hogwarts." Ron said. The other two shook their heads to agree. "If there'd been rumours about lush I'm sure George and Fred would have tried to find it before now. They know the castle better tha anyone."

"Well that's odd." Seamus muttered. "I was talkin' to them. They would be as well."

"Well it's obviously a new thing it's gaurding then!" Hermione told them. "Something that hasn't been here before."

"Yes." Neville said. "Because didn't your brother say the third floor corridor has never been out of bounds before?"

"That's right." Ron agreed. "Besides, everyone says the only place safer than Gringott's is Hogwarts."

"But Gringott's was broken into. The thieves headed for a single vault but it had been emptied. Gringott's is supposed to be impregnable." Draco pointed out. "No one should be able to break into it."

"So you think the thing that was being gaurded has been moved here?" Hermione's head snapped up from the book that lay open on her lap.

Draco nodded. "It makes sense doesn't it Neville?"

Neville nodded. "It must be worth a lot though. Can you think about it? To have a giant dog with three heads gaurding it!"

Hermione nodded. "It must be priceless."

Ron shook his head. "Didn't you listen to what Neville said?" He demanded. "It must be worth a lot. It can't be without a price."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It means that-, that you can not put a price on it because it is worth so much."

"Oh." Ron muttered. "That's stupid."

Seamus sighed. "So why do they have a hell hound gaurding it?" He asked.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked.

"You're Muggle born aren't you?" He asked. "The dog. A giant three headed dog. It's from the Greek stories init?"

Hermione nodded slowly, as did Dean. "I've heard them too." He admitted.

"Well the dog gaurds the enterance to the underworld." He said. "It stops people going in, but more importantly it stops people getting out." He said slowly. Behind him the common room was filled with chatter and laughter, but where they sat it was deadly quiet. Silence echoed before Hermione broke it.

"You mean you think he's gaurding someone?" Hermione's mind jumped to wrong conclusions.  
>Dean shook his head. "That isn't what he means." He told her. "It's gaurding something that's under the school."<p>

Seamus nodded. "Well that makes sense." Hermione admitted. "There's a trap door beneath it right Neville?"

Neville looked at Draco who answered for him. "Yes there is." His eyes looked from Hermione to Neville. It was almost as if people were ignoring him. They spoke to Neville and he answered. It was odd, but it felt better than being Draco Malfoy. It was so much easier to act as an interperator for the chosen one! "It was sitting on it."

Hermione shrugged. "Then what it's gaurding is beneath the school." She turned back to Seamus. "How did they get past the dog?" She asked. "In the stories they always get past the dog."

"Oh." Seamus paused as if racking his memories. "Didn't Achilles wrestle him?"

Hermione nodded. "How big was the dog Neville?"

Neville looked at his hands. "It's head touched the ceiling." Draco answered.

"I don't think anyone's wrestling it any time soon." Neville commented. Dean laughed.

"It's not funny!" Snapped Hermione. "This is serious. Wasn't there the man and music though?" She asked.

Seamus nodded. "Something like that. I know that there was one where he played music to get into the underworld. Don't know about the dog."

"You could give him a chew toy." Ron suggested.

"What?" Hermione turned to him as if remembering his presence.

"A chew toy." Ron repeated. "A big one though."

"Honestly!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Well for now let's try to find out what he's gaurding."

"We could ask the Professors." Neville suggested.

Draco shook his head. "We're not even meant to have been up there." He reminded him. "Besides, I doubt they'd tell us."

"Ah well. Whatever it is I'm not losing sleep on it." Ron stretched as he stood up. "I'm going to get a shower then bed. We've got Charms first thing though, so I'll probably be able to sleep through it."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"I was just joking!" He told her. "Don't need to panic!"

"Don't forget to brush your teeth." Hermione grinned at him as he walked away.

"You're not my mother!" He called back to her.

Seamus and Dean made their excuses to head off, and Hermione helped Draco and Neville drag the chairs back to their origional positions so that other people might use them. Fred came over to them for a moment. "Nev." He nodded to Neville. "Malfoy." He was one of the ones who still treated Draco with distrust. "Just wanted to tell you that there's Quidditch try outs after lessons tomorrow."

Neville shrugged. "I thought first years weren't allowed on the team." He said.

Fred shook his head. "Nah, first years can be on the team, just they rarely are. First years just aren't supposed to have brooms of their own." He shrugged. "Anyway, Oliver- he's our captain- wants fresh talent. We've got room for a seeker, and of course we're all trying out again for places. But you should try out Nev, and you Malfoy."

Neville shook his head. "I'm not that good."

"Nonsense!" Fred replied. "Ron told me himself you weren't that bad! My little sister's being nicking my broom since she's six, if a six year old can fly so can you." He looked at Hermione. "You could try out too. We do have girls on the team."

She shrugged. "Flying's magical." She grinned. "Excuse the pun."

"Witches and broomsticks." He commented. It was easy to tell that he and Ron were brothers. They had the same michevious grin, the same red startling hair. "I don't see the point of getting a bunch of first years." He lowered his voice. "But talent's talent. And Oliver wants to get some new scheme to win the cup. I suppose if you're good you'll be on the team as soon as possible." He smiled waving to another girl who was telling people. "So anyway, tryouts tomorrow at five on the pitch. Tell the others in your dorm ok?" He moved away.

"You should try Draco." Hermione told him. "You were good."

Draco nodded. "I was quite wasn't I?" He smirked. "You flew well too Neville."

"No I didn't." He told his friend. "I just can't believe I didn't crash. I didn't freaking crash!"

Draco shrugged again. "That's an achievement."

"Ha." Neville pulled a face. "So what do you think the dog is gaurding?"

Draco shook his head. "No clue. We'll have to wait and see won't we?" He asked.

Hermione looked as if she wanted to object. "I suppose." She agreed grudgingly. "I'm off to bed. Night."


	11. Chapter 11

A week exactly before Halloween and Neville barely woke in time for breakfast and neither did Ron. None of the other boys thought to wake them and George suggested turning their hair bright orange while they slept. It was only when Hermione looked up from her seat in the breakfast hall and spotted they weren't there she sent somebody to fetch them. On the way down the stairs Neville practically flew- far better than he had during flying lessons- and landed on his back with a thump. Then he slid all the way to the bottom bruising his arms in the prosses.

Ron rushed to the bottom of the stairs and luckily fate was with him and he didn't fall as well. He offered an arm to the boy and the chosen one accepted gratefully. Limping painfully together they walked into the Great Hall. They took their seats beside Hermione who had a large potions book open in front of her already. She looked up and smiled then winced as she saw their expressions.

"Jesus Neville.." Ron muttered. "You're lucky you weren't hurt!"

Neville shrugged. "I'm just clumsy I guess." He paused before reaching towards the toast. He grimaced biting into it. He rubbed his nose, he'd landed awkwardly headbutting the banister. "Is my face bruised?"

Hermione studied him for a second grimacing. "Kind of." She admitted. "You've got a little-" she gestured with her hand. "And your eye's a little bit swollen.." she paused. "I guess you don't have to worry about being eaten by a giant dog, you'll just fall down sets of stairs instead."

Ron paused glancing at the boy's face. "You should probably go to the infirmary." He suggested.

George laughed. "Has You Know Who tried to attack the chosen one?" he raised an eyebrow.

Neville winced away as Ron put a hand on his back. "You're going to have a hell of a bruise." He muttered.

"You better go to the infirmary Nev!" Hermione repeated. She didn't seem to be concentrating. "It's Halloween next week." She said slowly. "Time's gone by fast hasn't it?"

Neville shrugged. He had a letter to write to his Gran this afternoon. He sighed. He'd have to tell her about this. She wouldn't be too happy. Probably give him a smack round the head when he went back for Christmas too. He smiled and winced. He now felt as if he'd chipped a tooth when he felt- he ran his tongue along the sharp edge of it. It couldn't hurt to find out where the infirmary was. He had an unstrange idea that he'd need to know where it was for future refference anyway. In fact now he didn't have much of an appetite either. "You're right.." he paused. Perhaps Madam whatever she was called could give him something like pain killers. Did Wizards have them? They should. "Can you show me the way?"

Ron was in the midst of chewing his mouthfull of toast and opened his mouth wide spraying them with crumbs. Hermione promptly shut it for him and spoke instead. "I'll take you there before Potions." She promised.

Reluctantly Neville followed her from the emptying room. Most students were making their way to their first lessons anyway and almost all the Professors had already retired to their offices and classrooms. Their journey by foot seemed to go on for quite a while until Neville began to wonder if Hermione herself knew where they were going. The bell for lessons rang just as they stopped outside a large set of doors. Neville pushed one open and stepped slightly back so that Hermione could sweep past him. She gave him a very regal nod and he sniggered then followed. Bumping into her when he found she had stopped just inside the doorway.

"What a nice hospital." Hermione smiled softly.

Neville shrugged before wincing. His ribs did ache. Probably still bruised from when his Gran had knocked him with her walking stick. Not that she had tried to of course. But he was clumsy. "I guess." In all honesty he had never been in a hospital before. Gran despised the places and only went there when she was forced to once by that nice Doctor lady. But Gran refused to let Neville go to the doctor's surgery let alone a hospital. She said the places were dreadfully unhealthy and full of sick people. Neville had to agree she did have a point.

"Thank you. I take great pleasure of my fine establishment." Madam Pomfrey swooped down towards them her flurry of skirts rustling as she eyed the two. "Ah yes, a nasty bruise. Does anywhere else hurt?" she asked eying the purple and yellow bruises that were blooming across his right eye and right side of his face. "Yes I did hear you left quite a dent in the staircase Mr Longbottom." She chuckled tiredly.

"How did you-?"

"I do talk to the other Professor's from time to time. Professor Quirell was quite concerned about you. But you hurried away so fast.." she smiled. "Right." She pointed a wand at the nearest of her medicine cabinets which was just at the other end of the room. "Accio bruise cream."

Hermione jumped in fascination as a small pot with a pink lid whizzed across the room and landed in the healer's hand. Neville let out a yip of surprise. "Ma'am I think you should check his back as well.. he landed on it.." Hermione suggested.

"Very well Mr Longbottom off with the sweater." Madam Pomfrey clapped her wrinkled hands together as she unscrewed the lid of the pot. Neville didn't move, and Madam Pomfrey's face softned. "Come now Mr Longbottom I've seen many a young man's chest. I'm a healer it's my job. I can't heal you without having a look at what you've hurt."

Neville's cheeks became redder and he paused glancing at Hermione. It was Hermione's turn to blush as a sudden rush of scarlet flooded her face. "Urm.." she muttered flusttered slightly. "I'll just-go.." she paused. "Shall I tell Professor Snape that Neville'll be there soon?"

Madam Pomfrey considered for a moment before nodding. "Good girl. Now off you go to your lesson!" When Hermione had slipped away and shut the door carefully behind her Madam Pomfrey walked the young chosen one over to a bed. She pulled a curtain half way around him for his modesty and waited as he removed his sweater and battered old grey t-shirt. "Ah yes.. You are bruising slightly." She muttered a spell under her breath and ran her hands over his back. They were cold against his skin and made him shiver slightly. She frowned and removed her hands before rubbing a small amount of a green liquid into his skin. Then into his ribs she rubbed the gooey stuff from the pink lidded pot. She frowned again as she replaced her wand in her apron pocket and muttered to herself as she replaced the jars in the cupboard. Then she returned to Neville.

"Your ribs aren't broken just bruised. But you've broken them before haven't you?" she raised a carefully penciled eyebrow. "Or at least one of them.." she paused. "And you've had quite a few bruises on your back before too." Her hands went to his face as she dusted over his eye. "There's not much we can do about that eye I'm afraid. Tricky things are eyes. Just going to have to wait for it to fade.

Ten minutes later he was sent on his way to his Potions lesson. He almost wished he had missed it. But when he got there he was surprised to find Professor Dumbledore teaching the lesson. The headmaster kept him behind for a few moments at the end but it wasn't like if Snape had been there. Then the old man explained that Professor Snape had been taken "ill" and that he was covering the lesson for him. Then the old man did something that surprised Neville. He asked if he made a good potions teacher and should he give up his job as headmaster.

Neville had spluttered and not known whether Dumbledore had been joking or not. The lesson has been interesting though. They had mixed many different ingridients and in the end had created a potion called "Trouble Maker". You dropped a tiny amount into someone's drink and whatever colour ingridient you had added they would awake the next morning with eyebrows that colour. It faded after a while, but they had tested it on each other with stronger versions and as they left each student had orange eyebrows. Somehow Neville didn't think Professor Snape would have approved of the lesson. Hermione hadn't looked too happy with it either.

The day before Halloween Neville watched his first Quidditch match. He had cheered for George and Fred alongside Ron and Hermione. There was a pretty girl on the team too, and he had blushed when later she blew kisses at the crowd. In fact there were three pretty girls on the team but from the looks of it two of them were already taken. Neville didn't think about going home at Christmas then, or about You Know Who, or even about the horrible dog that guarded whatever it was that it was guarding. As he was walking from the stands after Gryffindor won, he was quite surprised when Snape who looked perfectly fine pushed him into a group of second years. He was even more surprised when he saw that had he continued to walk in the direction he was going he would have most likely tripped and fallen thirty feet down. But that didn't matter because that night all was forgotten as together they celebrated Gryffindor's victory. Not even Harry Potter's mutterings about being not allowed to join Slytherin's team could spoil it.

The very next day was Halloween and Neville awoke groggily to a large hairy toy spider being shoved in his face at around six am. This resulted in the waking of Ron who promptly screamed when he swore he saw the spider move and then the waking of every other child in the dormitory. The Weasley twins bent double with laughter could barely walk as they left the room. Finally Seamus, Neville, Draco, Dean and Ron returned to their beds shaken but sane.

"Those..twats.." Spat Ron eventually. He held the spider that Neville had thrown onto him by a single leg and threw it at the closing door. "I'm writing to Mum."

Draco sighed heavily. "Those brats."

Ron nodded. "They transfigured my teddy bear into a spider when I was younger." He growled and rolled over in his bed to look at Neville. "You're lucky you don't have to put up with older brothers."

Neville shrugged. "I'd always like to have a family." He paused and sighed. "Right well.."

"We have to get them back." Draco told the two.

Seamus shrugged. "Can' be bothered." He stood and grabbed his wash bag. "Seeing as I'm awake I'm getting a shower. Before the girls use up all the hot water."

Dean nodded. "Same." He yawned and stretched then threw his blankets onto the floor and slouched from the room.

"Will your Mum send them a Howler?" enquired Draco lazily.

Ron smirked. "Probably." He grinned. "Serve 'em right though?"

Draco nodded but Neville frowned. "What's a howler?"

Draco gave a fake gasp. "Never heard of one? Your old lady really must have been out of touch with the wizarding world." He smirked lightly. Neville wondered whether or not he liked Draco Malfoy very much but pushed the thought from his mind rather quickly.

When they went down to breakfast Neville Draco and Ron spent a while explaining to Hermione what a howler was. The castle was decorated magnificently and when they returned for dinner after a day of lessons in the Great Hall thousands of bats suspended in the ceiling their eyes shining red. Pumpkins hovered above the tables too with candles lit inside them giving an eerie air to the hall. But everyone seemed to be taking all of it for granted so Neville decided not to act like anything was up. He glanced up at the Head Table, and tapped Ron on the shoulder. "Wonder where Snape is."

Ron looked up too, and dropped his fork. He cursed as he grabbed it again. "Dunno." He paused. "Odd that. Last time I saw him he was pushing you down the stairs."

Hermione winced. "Ouch. Then again where's Quirrell?" she raised an eyebrow. "Snape's suspicious but he's not the only one."

"Who said anything about anything being suspicious?" George queried. "Ah yes, the stuttering Squirrell." He chewed thoughtfully as Fred nodded in agreement.

"Mum'd say he needs a bit of meat on him. He's all bone." Fred rolled his eyes. "Where is that man? You know I think he means well.. but to be honest he's a wimp in class too."

Neville nodded. Secretly he liked the Professor. The man was quite nice really and all of the students gave him a hard time. But the man was nice to Neville. He never complained when anyone was late and he was always incredibly sympathetic. He even stopped in the corridor to ask Neville if he was ok after falling down the stairs; except Snape had told him he'd have double detention if he didn't get to his next lesson immediately. So Neville had practically ran all the way to Transfiguration.

Suddenly the doors of the Great Hall were flung open, hollow booms echoed as they hit the stone walls and all heads in the Hall turned to see the one and only Professor Squirrell outlined in the doorway. His strange purple turban slightly askew as he raced towards the Head Table. He was halfway there when he began to shout. "Troll!" His shrill shriek came. "Troll in the dungeons!" He screamed at the top of his stopped at the table and addressed Professor Dumbledore. "Thought.." he panted in his usual quivering voice. "You.. should know.." he crumpled into a heap on the floor, a shaking sobbing heap. Silence grew in the Hall for what seemed like an eternity and then the bombshell dropped. Screams rose in the air like the breaking of glass as a good percentage of the students began to panic.

Then almost as soon as the panic had started Dumbledore's voice boomed across the Hall magically magnified. He spoke calmly and quietly yet every child, young person and teacher heard him. "Silence!" Silence fell as the shards of the broken glass spattered across the hall. Every head turned to look at the Headmaster standing proud and tall at the helm of chaos with his trusted Professor's gathered around him.

"Students you will return to your dormitories immediately. Prefects will lead the way. The troll will be dealt with, do not panic." He smiled slightly with a twinkle in his eye that reminded Neville of the twinkle that Father Christmas in the coca cola adverts on the side of the bus had in his eye. The eldest Weasley (at Hogwarts) rose calmly and sedatedly and rather importantly from his seat at the end of the Gryffindor table. Shouting for everyone to follow him in an orderly fashion Percy the Prefect led them from the Great Hall and towards their common room.

Hurriedly Ron stumbled to catch up with Neville and Hermione. "You know who did this don't you?" he asked excitedly.

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Honestly Ron you can't just pin the blame on someone-"

"You read books!" He growled accusingly. "Trolls no offence are really thick."

Neville's brows wrinkled as they started up the staircase. "And?" he asked.

"Ron thinks that someone let the Troll into the castle." Hermione guessed. "It's ridiculous!"

Ron shook his head. "No it's not! Think about it! Who was not at the feast? Snape!"

Hermione shook her head. "Don't be stupid.."

"Snape let the Troll in.. so he could steal whatever the dog's guarding! Snape's had it in for Neville since Neville started!"

Neville shook his head this time. "That's exagarating it a bit."

"Exactly!" Draco who was ahead of them commented. "Really.. Snape's just a foul old oversized bat to everyone."

There was laughter from everyone as he had made the last comment quite loudly. Hermione shushed him as they climbed through the portrait hole. "Ron I just think you don't like Snape."

"Which isn't really a crime." George who was making himself comfortable in front of the fire put in. "I mean who likes him?"

"Poor Snape." Commented Neville.

"And besides," Hermione added. "There was someone else who could have let the troll in." She folded her arms.

"Oh yeah?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Who?" he asked smugly.

"Professor Quirrell."


	12. Chapter 12

The troll incident wasn't forgotten quickly, because apparently, even in a magical secondary school, a stinking dangerous troll breaking into the place and almost killing several teachers wasn't normal.

Rumours flew around wildly as rumours tend to do. Some said that Professor Dumbledore had handled the troll single handedly, some people said that it had knocked Professor Snape unconscious and Professor McGonagall gave him the kiss of life (Ron Weasley had to ask what that was). But all rumours contained the fact that Professor Quirrell had fainted and hadn't proved himself as the professor of Deffence Against the Dark Arts.

But all that quietenned down when it came to Gryffindor and Slytherin's first match. Both tables were hyped up, and tension was brewing as always. Everyone in the school seemed to know that Harry Potter would be on the Slytherin team. His Dad had somehow argued his way into having his own broom stick, if his son wasn't playing for Gryffindor he'd certainly be playing for someone on the best broom money could buy. Despite the first year ban, he had a lot of influence, apparently his arm of influence stretched as far as the Ministry of Magic.

The Minister told the school to reconsider the rule this once. According to Draco Malfoy it helped that James Potter had an incredibly hot wife. Certainly a MILF according to some of the sixth years, but none of the younger Gryffindors knew what that meant, which caused the eldest years to laugh very obnoxiously loud.

Today was the match. Excitement raced through the air. Everyone seemed to think that Neville would be playing, and that rumour escalted. Being the Chosen One it was assumed he was a brilliant Quidditch player, but he didn't trust himself on a broom. He hadn't dared get on a broom since their first lesson. He just didn't enjoy flying.

He and Hermione had discussed not going to the match and simply doing more research on giant dogs. But it was the House pride at stake, and it was a match against Slytherin. Neville half hoped that Harry would fall off his broom and crack his head open, he wouldn't miss that for the world.

He'd also never watched a Quidditch match before, neither had Hermione. He read about them since getting to Hogwarts, but apparently that was nothing compared to the real thing. Hermione didn't like sports that much and her broom skills weren't as bad as his, but her confidence was, she wanted to see the physics of the game. She explained that as soon as she worked out the angles she'd be playing like a professional. She'd tried out for the team, and somehow they'd put her as a reserve should one of their players be injured. Draco also made the team, it was obvious he would.

Sadly, Neville Longbottom, had not made the team.

Ronald Weasley was alright, but Neville didn't really get on with him well. So he and Hermione left Dean and Ron to wonder along talking about Quidditch, as they and Draco made their way to the pitch.

Neville clutched his book on Quidittch to his chest. He wanted to make sure that what it said was right. It was one of Hermione's but she'd leant it to him. She didn't mind. He liked Hermione, even if she was a bit strange. And she had beaver teeth. And bushy hair. She was just so...nice.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's that?" he demanded, snatching it from where it was tucked away underneath his arms.

Neville frowned deeply. "Draco it's mine. It's a book."

Draco laughed regarding it with awe. "I have one just like this!" he laughed. "I didn't know you could read," he tossed it back. Neville caught it, just before slamming into one very angry Potions' teacher.

The over sized bat of a man scowled picking up the books he'd dropped.

"I'm so sorry Sir!" stammered Neville. He hurriedly tried to help, brushing against the man's injured leg.

Professor Severus Snape yelped aloud, and swore in several colourful languages, one of which Draco would bet his right arm was Troll.

"You insolent boy Potter!" snapped Severus Snape angrily.

Neville frowned. "Sir, it's Longbottom Sir...Neville Longbottom..."

Hermione extended a hand. "Professor, are you ok?" she asked quietly.

He shoved her away with one flick of his hand, he gathered up the books in his arms and pulled his robe's straight to hide the bandaged leg they had revealed. "I'm fine girl..." he growled. "Give me that book Longbottom!" he snatched the remaining book from Neville's arms and limped away.

The three looked at each other, unsure of what they were supposed to do. Hermione raced after him, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Sir, your leg! It's bleeding Sir-"

He flung her arm away. "Leave me alone Lily!" he snarled, before hurrying away, a slight limp in his left leg.

Hermione frowned watching as he limped away. She knew they were early going down to get ready before the game, but still surely he'd be heading out to the stands. And he'd called her Lily, which was Harry's Mum's name.

"See his leg?" Draco asked.

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "Covered in bandges, and it was bleeding."

Neville sucked on his bottom lip as they approached the playing field. Soon they would have to leave each other. Neville would go to the stands with the other Gryffindors and Hermione and Draco would go to get changed. Hopefully they wouldn't need Hermione to play, she'd secretly told him she dreaded playing. She could manage the flying and after several practise sessions seemed to be improving greatly, but she didn't understand all the rules of the game yet.

"Trolls don't bite people's legs though..." Neville frowned deep in concentration. "Unless it was a really short troll..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Neville you are an idiot sometimes, it's completely obvious, isn't it Hermione?"

Hermione frowned as they came to a halt. Soon they would turn, they would go to change. Hermione crossed her fingers, she'd only tried out out of pity for Fred and George who hadn't recruited anyone other than Draco to try for the team. Hardly anyone did try out, because everyone knew that Gryffindor hadn't had a good team since Charlie Weasley left.

It turned out half the team had left because their seventh year was over. They'd only had two people who didn't get places, Hermione Granger, and some kid in third year who barely managed to stay on his broom upright. Hermione got the reserve place.

"What's obvious?" she asked looking up at him through big round eyes.

He chuckled. "I don't know...I was expecting you to save me."

She tutted then slammed her hand into her forehead. "Oh my gosh Neville! It's that obvious! It could have been the dog."

Draco nodded eargerly. "It must have been the dog!"

"He was trying to get past it," Neville smiled knowingly. "It's the only explanation."

Hermione sighed. "He could have fallen over, could be an infected wound. There are hundreds of other possible explanations."

"Snape's trying to steal what's being hidden," Draco pointed out.

"And he took my book," commented Neville. Though no one felt like going to ask for it back.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Professor Snape's not an idiot, if he was trying to steal it don't you think he'd have done it before term started. While it was being brought here? Or even at the start of term? If he was trying to steal it for himself he would have got it."

"Got a crush on Snape have you?" Draco raised an arched eyebrow as he sniggered.

Hermione shook her head. "No! It's just what would be so important-"

Wood stuck his head out from where the other Gryffindors were changing. "Hurry up Malfoy! And you Hermione, you're playing chaser, don't argue about it! Do it!"

Neville waved goodbye to the team and went to sit in the stands. Minutes later the team appeared, including a terrified looking Hermione and a confident Draco.

He saw the Quidditch witch, the teacher woman, who he couldn't remember the name of, Madam Hotch? Madam Hwch? Something like that. He saw Snape leering from his seat by the headmaster. Mouthing something towards the Slytherin team. He picked up the glasses that had come with the book, luckily he'd kept them in his robe pocket.

Break a leg Potter.

He lowered them from his eyes. Well that wasn't a very nice thing to say to his new Seeker was it?

Madam Hooch blew the whistle and the game began.

Hermione repeated Wood's instructions in her mind. Follow what Angelina and Katie did. Pass the medium ball to each other, if she had it get as close to the other side's hoops or pass. Try to score it through one of the circles. Oh and watch out for the little golden ball, the snitch. So Draco could catch it. The other team would try to hit them with a ball but Fred and George would protect them. Oh and Wood was keeping their hoops, so the other team couldn't score.

Kind of like netball, she'd commented. Wood didn't know what she was on about.

The game went on around her. She actually began to enjoy herself. Katie passed the Quaffle to her and just as the Slytherin chasers caught up with her she returned it to Angelina. Angelina scored and the crowd went wild. She glanced down, realising how far the ground was away. Why did she agree to this? She was flying. She was FLYING!

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she spotted a tiny golden ball, and lowered her broomstick into a dive. Draco hadn't seen it. But Harry had.

It was clear that the Slytherin team weren't trying in anyway to improve their reputation . Lee Jordan, a friend of George and Fred's kept pointing that out. But his commentary was incredibly good, even if no one could deny it was biased towards Gryffindor.

Draco and Harry might have been natural Quidditch players. But Hermione saw the mathamatics of the game. A bludger hit Harry's arm, he had been about to clutch the golden Snitch in his gloved hand. He swore loudly and turned. One of his own team had hit it at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry turned in mid air. Glaring to see what had done it. "Evans? What's your problem?"

The Slytherin team were hitting Bludgers at each other, and now the Quaffle had become a weapon between them too.

Hermione forgot she was meant to be catching the Quaffle.

The Captain of the Slytherin team, a boy with a crooked nose and a face like thunder, called a time out.

All broomsticks returned to the ground as Professor Snape strode onto the pitch to start screaming at his team.

Wood gathered his team together. He addressed them sternly but fondly. "Keep up the good work people," he gave them a crooked grin. "Katie, Angelina, brilliant! Draco, you're doing good. Try to catch the Snitch sometime soon though, put those sneaky gits out of their misery," he used a thumb to gesture towards the Slytherin team.

They did look miserable. The three chasers were arguing amongst themselves over who had actually hit the Bludger that they weren't supposed to hit especially at their own Seeker.

One of the Beaters and Harry were screeching at each other while Snape smirked inbetween them, siding with the Beater each time. The other Beater and the Keeper were trying to gain control of the team again, which Snape was pretending to do, but obvious that he wasn't.

Albus Dumbledore watched, bemused.

"Fred and George," Wood continued, "good job. Hermione...remember you're a Chaser," he scolded.

Hermione nodded. "I have an idea- if that's ok?"

Katie nodded her approval and Hermione felt Angelina squeeze her shoulder. When it was them and Alicia they'd been the three girls on the team. Girls stuck together. It was the same now. Just with the geeky first year.

Wood looked across to where Madam Hooch was having strict words with the Slytherin team. He looked back to Hermione, "Shoot."

"Well, why does only the Sneaker go after the Snitch?"

Katie leant close to Hermione, lowering her voice. "It's Seeker, not Sneaker," she murmured.

"Well why does only the Sneaker do it? The rules say that the game ends when the Snitch is caught by the Seeker, but that doesn't mean the rest of us can't chase it."

Wood nodded, biting his lip. "Go on," he told her.

"And anyone can score, as long as it goes through the hoops and it's the Quaffle. So why don't we change it up a bit?" she suggested. "As long as we follow the rules we can do what we like. We need to use the ground to our advantage, see we can go as high as we like but not out of the area."

Wood frowned. "But that's not how you play."

She nodded. "I know. But I was thinking, why not? I think one of the chasers should wait by the other team's hoops, so they can be passed to easily. I also think if anyone sees the Snitch they should go after it. They can always pass it to the Seeker right?"

Draco nodded as if an understanding had come over him. "Right..."

Madam Hooch's whistle blew to get their attention and then a few moments later again to signal that time out was over. They rose up in the air and the game began.

Slytherin's Beater hit a Bludger towards Draco, he dodged it and Hermione used the end of her broom to hit it away. Wood frowned at her as if she were commiting blasphemy against Quidditch by not playing in the traditional way.

Draco hovered near Slytherin's hoops and as Angelina swooped towards them a Slytherin Chaser closed in on her. No one was near enough, and so she did the most natural thing. Tossed the Quaffle to Draco.

Lee's voice was one of confusion, but a great roar went through the crowd. "And Draco Malfoy Gryffindor Seeker has scored! Is that even allowed? Apparently it is!"

"And Harry Potter's seen the Snitch! Son of famous Quidditch player James Potter! And-" a hush filled the crowd before Gryffindor errupted. "And George Weasley has the Snitch!"

George dove towards Draco but suddenly the Chasers from Slytherin were in his way. The Keeper was loyal to the hoops and stood his guard. He missed the Quaffle that Katie sent soaring through the air, scoring Gryffindor ten points.

George felt the tiny Snitch flutter in his hand. He wasn't wearing gloves, it burnt his skin, he tossed his bat towards Hermione who caught it as it fell through the mist. He'd been gripping his broomstick between his knees and as ecstasy soared through him he realised this was the first time he'd actually felt a Snitch in his hand. But if he let it go it would zoom away. It fought against him trying to escape.

The three Chasers had made a guard between him and Malfoy. The two Beaters kept trying to send Bludgers at Malfoy. Were they trying to knock him off his broom? Cheaters.

George took his chance and dived, "Fred!"

Fred dived beside him and then they'd passed the Snitch.

Wood was keeping his post by the hoops. Loyal to the tradional Quidditch. "This defies the point!" he shouted. But secretly he was glad they were winning. The Chasers were so concentrated on getting the Snitch back off George and Fred that they weren't deffending their hoops at all. The Slytherin Keeper was not happy.

"And Hermione Granger passes to Katie Bell, who scores again!"

The crowd went wild.

Madam Hooch watched in awe, she wanted to stop them, but Gryffindor's tactic was quite unique. If not unorthodox.

Hermione remembered the rule book off by heart. Beaters were not allowed to score, but that meant anyone else could. The game ended when the Seeker caught the Snitch. She remembered all the fouls. Almost. The ones that were publicly available.

Harry seemed to be the only Slytherin actually concentrating on the game and his own position. He chased Fred and George viciously. Suddenly Fred, who held the Snitch now, peaked upwards. He nodded to George. "Ready?"

"Draco!" shouted George, Draco knew the idea. Well he thought he knew. He could see George holding Fred's bat ready. Ready to swing.

Draco zoomed upwards, Fred opened his hand and before the Snitch could flutter its fast little wings and fly away George swung. The Snitch flew through the air, and Draco almost leapt off his broom.

"And Draco Malfoy has the Snitch!"

The game was over.

"He caught it! Malfoy has the Snitch!" screeched Lee Jordan.

And for once Malfoy really felt a part of Gryffindor, as they all joined in the applaud. Proffessor Dumbledore clapped lightly too, standing. A twinkle in his eye.

Neville left his seat talking excitedly about the game to anyone who'd listen. Muggleborns were explaining about Baseball and Rounders and Cricket and how George had swung the bat like a professional.

Slytherins complained about the Gryffindors messing the game everyone loved up.

But Gryffindor had won. Even Oliver Wood couldn't complain about that.

Suddenly as Neville walked forwards the step beneath him vanished. A sharp shooting pain ran through his head and just as he was about to plunge to the ground tens of feet below. As the stands were high so that they could watch the game in detail it wouldn't have been a good fall. He'd have hit the wood on the way down. Smashing through it.

Perfect Percy the Prefect caught him under the arms. "Neville!" he called. "Are you ok?"

Hauling him back up to his feet Perfect Percy the Prefect brushed his hands over his robes and adjusted his Perfect Prefect badge. "What happened?"

Other children glanced down at the hole that had appeared. "L-lucky you d-d-didn't f-fall," Quirrell told him from behind. With a wave of his wand he fixed the wooden floor. "S-s-someone m-must n-not like y-you L-longbottom," he let out a nervous laugh.

Neville frowned deeply. Perfect Prefect Percy frowned too. "Professor I hardly think it's sensible for you to create conspiracy theories within Hogwarts, there's enough fear around."

Quirrel let out a shaking sigh. "Q-quite right. M-must h-have b-b-been an a-accident. R-right S-Severus?" he called to the Potions teacher who stood just ahead of them. He must have returned there from sitting by the Headmaster.

He glared at Neville. "Longbottom, you _must_ be careful," he hissed. "Accidents happen easily."

Neville continued towards the castle. He turned to see Quirrell deep in stuttering conversation with the Headmaster. Quirrell spotted him and waved, just as a shot of pain raced through Neville's scar again.


	13. Chapter 13

"Well I'm not staying here over Christmas," Harry Potter was informing two of the boys at his table. "My Dad would never allow it."

Professor Snape shot him a glare as he brushed by. "Quiet!"

A girl sitting just one table behind him blushed almost as red as the colour she'd dyed her lips in the hope that it would make them appear fuller and maybe Harry would talk to her a bit more. "Oh Harry," she murmured. "It must be so hard being the son of a professional Quidditch player. And your Mum, oh she was in the Enchantment magazine just last week. She seems so down to earth."

"She is," Harry informed her lightly.

The girl nodded. "Do you think you could get me your Dad's autograph Harry?"

"And me!" added another girl.

"And me!"

"Me too!"

Professor Snape rolled his eyes. "Mr Potter you can talk about your so called 'heart throb' father in detention with Miss Garcia and Mr Henry if that's really the kind of thing he wants to talk about. Now turn to page three hundred and two!"

Ronald Weasley couldn't help but smirk. Students from Slytherin as well as Gryffindor were stiffling giggles. Only Hermione Granger looked completely unamused and Ron knew she couldn't take a joke from anyone; let alone a teacher.

"Mr Weasley if you also want to discuss James Potter and..." Snape snatched the magazine from Alice Garcia's hand. "His toned muscular body, his chizzled face and his denial of claims he had an affair with an underage witch," he rolled his eyes in disgust at the magazine and the grinning half naked pullout poster of James Potter. He was topless, lying on a bed and wearing a broomstick strategically placed. He kept winking at people and smiling.

"We are here, to learn Potions!" he bellowed. "Not to discuss," he glanced at the magazine. "Whether or not James Potter has cheated on his wife or whether or not his favourite colour is actually green 'like her eyes'!"

He couldn't say her name. He wouldn't say her name. Because if he found out that James Potter had hurt her, in any way, he would murder him. He felt himself shaking. He wouldn't put it past the womanizer to have affairs with under age witches, though the witch who was now twenty one was probably doing it for attention and publicity. And money.

But if James Potter had hurt his Lily, he would kill him. He didn't need magic. He'd strangle him with his bare hands and wait for the dementors to take him.

"Well I don't think I shall be going home for Christmas," Draco informed Neville quietly. He still had a slight sneer in his voice and he often was rude and unfair to Muggle borns, but with Neville constantly scolding him (and of course trying desparetly not to sound too much like Hermione Granger) he was getting less and less rude. "You know Father's a gouvernor of course and very influential. But of course when he hears that I'm staying he shall be upset...but I doubt he actually wants me home. Mother seems to, but I'm just in the way."

Hermione Granger rolled her eyes and wished they'd just be quiet. They were talking way too loudly and they weren't even meant to be talking. Professor Snape had written out instructions and had told them to follow what it said in the book. Yet Neville and Draco were so deep in conversation that they'd probably end up chopping off their fingers or turning their noses blue.

Or worse.

She didn't want to work with Dean. But for safety reasons and the lack of equiptment due to (as many teachers complained) so much funding going towards the Quidditch department there wasn't that much going towards the other stuff; like Potions (as Professor Snape always reminded them).

Dean didn't seem to be doing much. "You know that dog?" he asked quietly, glancing up at Hermione.

She nodded. "What about it?" she lowered her voice as she scraped the disected newt into the cauldron.

"And you know we were talking about what it could be guarding?" Dean continued slowly. His voice barely a whisper. He'd been wanting to talk to Hermione about a few facts that had been niggling the back of his mind but he hadn't exactly got the courage up to do it. He'd thought she might laugh at her, plus he'd needed to get her on her own and he didn't want it to look odd. So he'd decided Potions would be the perfect place.

Hermione glanced across at the blushing boy and sighed wishing he'd get on with it. She glanced back at the book, half of the kids in the class never read the whole set of instructions before starting. She always did. It was the first warning in the book. She began to pick at the green stringy weed, and looked at Dean's own board- the ingridients she'd given him to prepare were untouched. Dean was twisting a piece of hair around one finger.

"Dean would you mind getting to the point or letting me continue with the work you're supposed to be helping with?"

Dean nodded and frowned. Hurriedly he picked up his knife and began to slam it down into the sweet smelling herbs. Hermione hurriedly grabbed his wrist, preventing him from destroying what remained usable. She took hold of the board and showed him how to do it slowly and carefully. "Thanks," he mumbled. "But I don't know whether it's important or not and I heard this when Professor Snape was shouting at Professor Quirrell...well it was Professor Quirrell what said it..."

"What did he say Dean?" she asked quite loudly.

All heads turned to them. Professor Snape swooped down upon them. "Miss Granger! Five points from Gryffindor- and don't lie I know you weren't talking about the lesson. Return to your work!"

Harry Potter laughed. "Perhaps you should have them seperated Professor."

Snape turned on him furiously. "Five points from Slytherin! Mr Potter that comment was uncalled for!"

"But that's-" Harry began.

"Another five points!" Snape snapped with a sneer.

The Slytherin's began to mumble their disgust. Harry said no more.

Later on, after the lesson was over, and Snape didn't fill in on his threat of giving them all detention for the next three years, Dean cornered Hermione. It was time for dinner and then it would be the weekend. After that it would be the Christmas holidays. Most of the children who were leaving were going home on the Sunday.

Neville had already decided he would be staying. Draco had also told him that he'd be staying. But when Dean had said he wanted to talk to Hermione for a second, everyone had made cat calls before leaving them to it.

Hermione stared up at him. Although she wasn't exactly short for her eleven years he was taller. "Dean what did he say?"

Dean glanced around cautiously as if expecting Professor Snape to pop up from somewhere (which he often did). "Well I wasn't dropping eaves or anything-"

Hermione sighed deeply. "Oh come on, I'm not going to shout at you. Just tell me what Professor Quirrell said."

"He was stuttering and all...and Snape was angry and was telling him he shouldn't be going around asking questions about the stone."

"What stone?" Hermione asked quickly.

Dean tutted her. "The stone," he emphasized. "Snape told Quirrell that people would get suspicious if he was constantly asking about the stone and Quirrell was saying that Dumbledore knew The Dark Lord was looking for Nicholas Flamel's stone...and Snape told him not to go spreading that around! And...well you see I was in the classroom next door- McGonagall had made me stay behind to clean up the glass that I'd broken and it was like I'm sure Quirrell knew I was there. He kept looking at the door and almost straight at me and it was really weird and-"

Hermione cut across him. "That does sound rather strange. Why would Quirrell want you to hear it? Dean...do you ever think that he puts the stutter on? Because sometimes I'm sure he almost forgets. And it's twice now we've seen Snape threatening him and both times it's been as if he wants us to think that. But why?"

"I reckon Snape wants that stone thing the dog's guarding for himself!" Dean told her excitedly. "I reckon he don't want Quirrell-"

Hermione shook her head as she fumbled with the catch of her bag. "I don't think it's that."

Dean frowned. "Well if I was going to steal something I wouldn't go around warning people. That's just stupid..."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She began to walk. If anyone came along they'd want to know why they were hanging around in a corridor while everyone else was eating. "I don't know Dean. If they're protecting it they must expect that someone is going to try to steal it. So maybe Professor Quirrell is trying to bluff everyone into thinking that he's really warning them. When really he's not he's just covering himself," she paused. "It's what I'd do."

Dean had to laugh at that. "Well Hermione, I'm sure you'll be an evil genius one day."

"And you're sure it was," Hermione stopped talking as two prefects passed them. When they were out of ear shot she continued. "Nicholas Flamel's stone?"

He nodded. "Proper sure."

That night Neville could not sleep. He twisted and he turned and he cried during his sleep. In the end he got up, and decided to wander through the corridors of Hogwarts. He knew he wasn't meant to. But if he endured another moment of nonending pain he'd cry out and wake the entire house. So he stood, did not bother to dress, simply drew a plain cloak around himself and padded out of the portrait hole in his slippers.

Just as he was he was padding away he felt a hand fall on his shoulder and almost cried out. But he didn't. It was dark in the corridor and his wand was lit up. He'd learnt the spell from Hermione because he hadn't really understood it in the lesson and she'd taken three hours one Saturday afternoon to help him perfect it. The portraits he'd been going by had told him to turn it off and he'd ignored them just kept it low to the floor.

"Hermione!" he hissed.

"Where are you going?" she demanded in a whisper.

Neville rolled his eyes. "I can't sleep...you wouldn't understand," he strode onwards acting more confident than he actually did. But by now he knew that the third floor corridor was more heavily patrolled as was the first floor (that's where the main enterances were) and so the second floor was quite easier to explore. He also knew that half the rooms moved by the time you got back to them, so exploring was even more fun.

He'd done it thrice before when he couldn't sleep. But he'd almost been caught each time. Unlike Harry Potter who boasted of his invisibility cloak, he had nothing to shield him and hide him from the world.

"I couldn't sleep either," she murmured. "I-I had a nightmare...but you mustn't be out here. We need to get back to the tower!"

"Keep it down child!" cried a portrait on the wall. It was of a rather skinny looking woman, with wrinkles tugging at her face and greying hair that fell to her shoulders. She turned to the man beside her. "I remember my days at Hogwarts...do you remember when we were in our fourth year and we snuck out to meet each other only to be caught by Professor Wickard?"

The man gave a yawn.

Neville hurried onwards, forcing Hermione to hurry to keep the pace. Neville turned to her. "Please, Hermione. I need to be alone. I had a really really bad nightmare, alright. You can't understand what it's like."

Hermione stopped dead. "Can you hear that?" she whispered.

Neville frowned. "What?" he murmured.

"That noise..." she informed him. "It's...is there someone crying?"

Neville slowed his footsteps. They were coming up to a disused classroom, and she was right there was a strange sound coming from it. But it didn't sound like someone crying. It sounded like there was a caged animal in there, hurting, bleeding, moaning and whimpering. A light came from the crack beneath the door.

Neville lowered his wand and they were plunged into almost darkness, as Hermione had not drawn her own. Gently she pushed the door open slightly, to peak around it.

At the back of the disused classroom was a mirror, not a fancy looking mirror, but plain enough. It was dull and old and yet what drew your attention was the man who weeped in front of it. The man's lantern had been left on one of the old and almost broken desks.

Severus Snape's shoulders raised and fell. He swallowed and whimpered again, staring at the mirror and at the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. Lily Evans. And beside her stood a man, who was a taller, more attractive version of himself. And in her arms she held a baby. His baby. His little baby boy. And Severus Snape weeped.

"Why is he crying?" whispered Neville.

The door creaked slightly but Snape didn't turn. Hermione withdrew from it. "I-I don't know," she stammered quietly. "Neville we should go..."

Severus Snape shut his eyes, the mirror showed him a lie. A dreadful, bad lie. A lie that could never happen, that would never happen. Harry Potter was not his son. Even if they shared DNA, he was Potter's son. That's all that mattered. The boy was not his son. And Lily was not his wife. When he shut his eyes only emptiness remained, replacing all the pain. When he closed his eyes he saw her still.

But not with the boy. But looking the same way as he'd last seen her. Afraid. Not of him. Of James. He swore, if James ever laid a finger on her, if he ever hurt her, he'd kill him.

"I miss you," he murmured. He opened his eyes staring into hers. And she smiled. Her hand touching the mirror his face. His face not stained with tears and pain.

Neville leant too hard against the door. It creaked open, and Snape was on his feet wand drawn and preparing himself to curse the man to eternity. Hermione let out a little gasp as she leapt backwards as if burnt. Professor Snape was scaring her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his face stained with tears. Anguish heavy in his eyes.

Professor Snape lowered his wand and tidied his robes. "You didn't see anything Longbottom, Granger," he hissed, voice deadly and dripping with killing poisons. "Do you understand?"

Hermione cowered away. A wild mad look now was trapped in the Professor's eyes. As if he really wanted to hurt them. As if he really wanted to kill them. "Y-yes..."

"You didn't see anything, and neither did I!" he snapped. Then swept from the room. He wondered why he kept going back; when it caused him so much pain. He couldn't stay away.

Neville neared the mirror, he saw that it was full length. Most of the desks had been broken and shoved to one side of the practically empty classroom. The desk Snape had been using looked as if it had been used often. As if Snape had come here more than once.

Hermione was half glad he'd left the lantern. She didn't like the magical glow their wands gave off. It was scary. She gently touched the mirror, tracing the engravings she now saw around the outside. "It's pretty..." she murmured.

"What about it made him cry?" Neville pondered. "W-why was he so sad?"

Hermione shrugged. "What was your nightmare about? Sometimes talking can help."

Neville shook his head as he stared at his own reflection. Then let out a tiny gasp as two figures appeared behind him. He turned, but Hermione alone was there. Watching him carefully. He turned back to the mirror. There was now three figures as well as himself. An elderly woman with a stuffed raven on a hat and a strange handbag (his Grandmother) and two other adults. The woman was exactly the same height as him and had mousy hair and the man looked slightly nervous as he twiddled his thumbs and placed an arm around the woman's shoulder. The Neville in the mirror smiled back.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They nodded with a smile then beckoned for other people to join them. And other people did. They smiled and waved at him. Neville turned to Hermione, beconing that she look.

Hermione frowned. "I-I don't see your parents Neville," she said cautiously. "I can't see anything."

He moved away and let her stand directly in front of it. "The woman at the front's my Mum...isn't she beautiful?"

Hermione shook her head slowly as fear overtook her mind. Overwhelming her. She breathed steadily. "I-I don't see your Mum Neville...I see...I see..."

"Tell me what you see!" he told her.

She shook her head, backing away. "No. What is it?" she asked fearfully. "The future?"

"My parents are dead," Neville informed her.

Hermione nodded and almost smiled in relief. "We should leave...if Professor Snape comes back-"

Neville shrugged, pushing her out of the way. "I don't think he will be."

Hermione shivered, tugging her cloak around her. "Neville I don't like it here. It reminds me of my dream-"

Neville span to face her. "Hermione you have dreams. Ok, everyone has bad dreams. But I have nightmares. At least you can wake up from them. Hermione I'm just finding out all about how there's some guy who wants me dead. Ok? And I have dreams about my Mum and my Dad dying. And Hermione it hurts..." he began. "Hermione it hurts. You know that scar on my forehead? It hurts so much...and I wake up and I throw up. It hurts so much. I hear her scream and I hear his voice. And I hear him laughing Hermione. Every night. Sometimes during the day as well. Hermione I see pain and death and him."

She nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he informed her curtly. He slumped to the floor, crossing his legs. He glanced up at her. "What was your nightmare about?"

She crouched beside him then sat, tucking her knees up to her chest. "I used to dream about this boy. His name was Tom. When I was little he was my imaginary friend. But of course I stopped talking to him eventually and grew out of it. So he started being in my dreams. And just at the start of term they started to get worse. At first, he was everything I could ever dream of. He was older than me, and kind and sweet and sympathetic. Tom is always there when I go to sleep. At first they were dreams. He was my friend. But now they're nightmares..."

Neville nodded.

"But now...now he's horrible. He..he hurts people. And I know it's not the same, Tom isn't real. But he hurts people...he hurts you. He wants me to help him. And he hurts me if I don't."

Neville gave her hand a squeeze. "It's just a dream. It can't hurt you."

Hermione nodded. "I know," she sighed. She pictured the dark haired Tom in her mind. "But Voldermort's real. He can hurt us."

Neville nodded. "I'm scared Hermione."

"I know," she replied quietly. She stood, her knees clicking in protest. "We need to get back to bed. Being caught by Filch would be bad enough. But if Professor Snape does decide to report us we'll be in trouble."

Neville nodded. Good priorities, he supposed. He knew he should be doing heroic things. If Harry was the chosen one Harry would be doing heroic things. But he wasn't anything special. He was just Neville.


	14. Chapter 14

The next evening Neville tried to return to the mirror, but he did not realise he had been followed. For he turned to see Hermione Granger standing behind him. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

The girl wore her cloaks over pink flannel pyjamas and simply shrugged. "I...Neville I don't think this is very healthy. Perhaps you shouldn't come here."

Neville's head snapped back to the mirror. "No. Why did you follow me Hermione?"

She shrugged again. "It's nice to see your parents Neville. But I don't think its healthy to stare into a magic mirror so much. I don't...I don't think it's right."

Neville sighed. Then turned to Hermione. "You're right," he agreed. "You're...you're right."

Hermione nodded, the sadness that had filled her eyes left. Now she was back to being the Know it all Neville Longbottom knew and loved. "I always am," she extended a hand. "Come on. Let's go."

They returned to their dormitories, narrowly missing being caught by Filch and his dratted Mrs Norris. In a way they were lucky, for another server of detentions was out of bed. He crept through the shadows with his crooked nose and his jet black hair, angry and disturbed. The mark was hurting. He reached the abandoned mirror, and fell to his knees before it.

Opening his eyes in the dimly lit room, Professor Snape's mouth twisted into a smile. "Lily..."

The next day was Sunday, but it was a very quiet Sunday for most children were returning home and those who weren't were delighted to find Hogwarts covered in snow. The lake froze solid and only Hermione Granger worried about the poor giant squid. Ron was glad when she finally left with tearful farewells to he and Neville, and sat beside Dean on a carriage to the train station.

Hagrid was rather busy nursing sick owls back to health and was grateful for the offer of help from Ron and Neville. He thought the owls would be far safer with no contact from either, and knew that the Christmas tree would have more branches left if neither came naer it. Fred and George had good fun bewitching snowball to follow Quirrell around and bounce off his turban. They scored themselves five points for hitting the centre, three for the neck and only one for the back. That was until Professor Snape had them punished.

Snape was being particularly foul, as was Harry. Disgusted that his Quidditch team had lost he kept making jokes about how ridiculous Neville and Hermione had been on broomsticks. He was pleasantly surprised to hear they wouldn't be on the team for the next game, and was horrible as usual until he left. You could hear him bosting about going to Spain for the holiday all the way down to the gates.

Malfoy was also going home for Christmas but refused to sit by Hermione and called her particularly foul names. Then he'd taunted Neville about having no proper family. Hermione before the carriage had left had whispered to Neville not to judge Malfoy too harshly as he was probably just very unhappy.

Ron and his siblings were staying at Hogwarts too, because their parents were visiting their older brother Charlie in Romania.

After promising Hermione that they'd do some more research on the stone. They'd been looking for loads of different types of stones, stones that could be important. There was the stone of lies, which glowed bright red when a person told a lie. There was a blood stone, with other magical powers. Different golds. Hermione kept saying something about a Flannel, or something, and she just couldn't remember how Flannel or Flanel or Towel or something had something to do with a stone.

Neville too could remember a connection between a Flannel or Flamel and a stone. But he just couldn't remember where from.

Once the holidays started both Neville and Ron lost all memory of a stone and a flannel. They had the dormitory to themselves because Draco had gone home too, and the common room seemed so much bigger that they were able to get armchairs right by the fire without fighting off big fith and sixth years. They toasted anything they liked and plotted of ways they could get Harry Potter expelled.

Neville felt guilty for not writing much to his Grandmother. He'd made up a big excuse about needing to do lots of school work and she'd written back scolding him but agreeing. She seemed angry and he dreaded returning to her wrath, but all the same he really enjoyed remaining at school. Perfect Percy the Prefect kept disturbing him and Ron, as Ron and he played Chess.

He and Ron enjoyed playing the wizard chess, but Percy kept ruining it by bringing up silly bits of information and pointing out potential moves. The set was old withered and battered but excellent. Neville had to borrow a set of chessmen that Seamus lent him and he wasn't a good player and they kept shouting advice as did Percy.

Percy did leave them alone, to go off conversing with a dark haired female prefect, who George and Fred both joked he fancied. "Yet she'd be daft to be attracted to him!" George had added. "Even in the Wizarding world, kissing frogs does not turn them into princes."

On Christmas Eve Neville went to bed happy. When he woke the next morning he saw a pile of presents at the bottom of his bed. His Grandmother had sent him a two left socks he already owned and a dusty book of famous witches and wizards.

Neville was actually surprised. Since he could remember life at his Grandmother's, he remembered receiving fifty pence at Christmas, and the same card. "Ron!" he called. "Ron! I have presents!" he cried pulling on his dressing gown.

Ron rolled his eyes. "What did you expect? Turnips?" he quipped, turning to his own large pile.

Shaking his next pile he found a present from Hagrid, to Neville. Inside was a wooden triangle, and a stick. Neville tapped it, it made a slight dull noise. He found a jumper, thick and coloured orange. He turned to see Ron had a similar one.

"Every year Mum makes us a sweater," groaned Ron. "She knew your Grandmother couldn't afford much. And every year mine's maroon."

Neville also had a box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. He grinned. This was more than he'd ever had before.

It turned out Fred and George had sweaters too, both blue, one with a large F and one with a large G on it. Both letters were in bright yellow. "Well it's obvious she makes more effort if you're not family!" cried Fred.

George grabbed Ron's sweater, pulling it over his head when he refused to put it on. "That's better," he decided. "Neville's wearing his. Get ready to ambush Perfect Percy Prefect when he comes in through the door. She only puts letters on ours because she thinks we're stupid."

Fred chuckled. "But we're not. We know we're Gred and Feorge."

George let out a battle cry as he lunged forward seizing Percy's sweater as he strolled through the door. "You've got a letter this year too! P for Prefect!" he cried. "Come on. We're wearing our. Even Neville is!"

"I don't-" Percy began. He almost crumpled to the floor as they both forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew. It was then agreed that Percy would sit with them not the prefects and that was that as the twins frog marched him from the room, arms pinned to his side by the ugly sweater.

Neville had never eaten so much in his life. He'd never had such a good Christmas dinner. Before he would have shared an out of date piece of lamb with a couple of dry potatoes and some peas with his Grandmother. Before she had a funny turn and had to go lie down, leaving him to amuse himself. But Hogwarts' dinner? It was marvelous, and no words can describe it.

With mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, hundreds of turkeys so much thick gloopy good gravy, so much peas, platters of chipolatas, it made Neville's mouth water. There were brilliant crackers that were nothing like the Muggle version. Neville pulled one to find that it engulfed them with a cloud of smoke while the inside exploded a pirate hat and several large white mice. Up at the teacher's table Dumbledore swapped his own hat for a flowered bonnet and chuckled at the joke Flitwick had just read.

Perfect Percy nearly broke his teeth on a sickle embedded in a slice of Christmas pudding and they all laughed when Hagrid kissed McGonagall on the cheek. Especially when she giggled and blushed and too called for more wine.

Neville finally left the table with a stack of gifts out of crackers and spent the afternoon with the Weasleys having a great furious snowball fight. All of the Gryffindors who remained in Hogwarts joined in. Apart from Percy. Then after that when they were all cold and tired and wet they returned to the common room. Neville used a chess set he'd swapped George for to lose spectacularly to Ron. He reckoned had he not followed so much of Percy's advice he wouldn't have.

After a left over supper everyone felt too sleepy and full to do much except sit around and watch Fred and George gallomp around the common room as Percy with great fury chased them demanding the safe return of his prefect badge.

Neville had not discussed the mirror with anyone else but although on Christmas day he longed to return to it. Yet Hermione's words were wise, and he knew he would be a fool not to follow them. But on Boxing day he realised he was a fool, for he went in search of the mirror, and found it moved. He was almost glad of that, and did not go in search of it again.

The day after they got a letter Draco. He had not received any gifts that Christmas, not that he expected too. He was frightfully unhappy and wished to return to Hogwarts, though not to communicate with fools like Weasley and Know it alls like Granger. Neville read the letter aloud to Ron, and they both laughed at it and tried to take Hermione's advice.

Neville didn't go looking for the mirror though. But the nightmares got worse as he saw his parents disappearing into darkness. Into a flash of green. Then darkness. Over and over again.

But another dream also came into his mind. A terrible woman, a terrible terrible woman. She was mad, almost mad. And she was looking for someone. And then, a beautiful woman appeared in his vision. A beautiful woman, with bright green eyes, just like Harry Potter. The other woman, she was so angry. So very angry. She was cursing, and the other woman cried out in pain. Then a man came forward, and put himself between the woman and...and Lily.

The dream was serial, continuing over a few nights. Neville recognised the man, there was a poster of him in the common room. Though someone had drawn a moustach on it. James Potter.

The woman was so angry, she screamed about getting answers. About hunting them down, about going through hell and high water to get to them. She dared that they knew secrets that Dumbledore had trusted to them. She dared that they tell her. And tortured them. Before trying to turn on their son.

Then the man arrived. He cursed at her, and they duled. She called him her cousin.

Neville woke.

He told no one of the dream.

So on the first of January, when he read in the Daily Prophet that James Potter (professional football player) was deadand his beautiful young wife Lily Potter, had been hospitalised probably permenantly after being tortured for three whole days under an unforgivable, he could do nothing but gasp.

Their son had been left alive, and two death eaters had been arrested on scene, in the Potter's home which they'd just returned to from holiday. One was Lestrange who had been running for eleven years, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake the other Sirius Black.

According to the Prophet it was he who'd told her that the Potter's had such information that would help return her master. It was he who launched the attack, and he who tried to turn on her.

Thankfully Peter Pettigrew, another of the Potter's friends, had learnt of what Sirius intended and had chased him and the witch from the house. Lestrange succeeded in losing her persuers but Pettigrew with the help of another family friend Remus Lupin cornered Sirius. Sirius killed thirteen muggles and Pettigrew in his escape, Lupin barely escaped death.

But neither Lestrange nor Black got far. And Lestrange made sure she took her cousin to Azkaban with her.

What the Prophet didn't know, and the rest of the wizarding world didn't know, was that Sirius Black was innocent. Lestrange went down screaming about the bloody traitor that Pettigrew was, and decided if she couldn't take him with her to hell, she'd take the man who'd almost ruined it all.

Sirius Black was innocent. Framed by Pettigrew and Lestrange, who used Lupin to do it. After all, a respected man, not too trusted, or respected due to unfortuante circumstances. Lupin saw Sirius draw his wand, he'd seen Sirius standing over James's battered bloodied body. Obviously tortured before the killing curse had been uttered.

It was proven that one of the most recent spells cast by Sirius's wand was the killing curse. It was known that Lestrange did the torturing. And Lestrange sang like a bird even though nothing would reduce her life sentence.

Sirus swore he'd seen her wink at him before they dragged her away.

Neville told no one of the dream.

On the first day of term Dumbledore spoke of pain and suffering and never once met Neville's eyes. Harry Potter would return to school a week later. Dumbledore too would take a short leave, to speak at the funeral of James Potter and at Peter Pettigrew's. Though in the latters there was no body to bury.

Severus Snape wept. In his office. In the dark. Because over a decade ago he told Lord Voldemort that there was a family that fitted the description. And he had feared that Lily would die. Then he felt so guilty, for another child's life was torn apart and two lives were lost. He felt guilty for he was happy, and glad that Lily was alive. And angry at James. So angry. Angry at himself, that he wasn't pleased that James made her happy.

James was dead. Sirius was locked away. Pettigrew was gone.

Snape knew he was twisted, for he felt almost pleased that his childhood tormentors were almost all gone. But he didn't feel pleased. He never wished upon them death. Or Azkaban.

When Harry returned he was met by pitying gazes and that made everything hurt twice as much. From all but Severus Snape, who apologized for his losses, then demanded in the homework he was due.

"Thank you Professor," Harry mouthed, as he handed in the ten inch scroll.

Snape nodded as he turned away. "Any day Potter. Now get to your seat! Tardiness is not tolerated in this classroom. Even from you."

Harry was nastier than ever, but most people were more tolerant. Apparently he was living with his only remaining relatives, Muggles, but Dumbledore was looking to move him to somewhere new.

"It's awefully sad," murmured Hermione tentively that evening.

"I've got it!" yelled Neville. Then he remembered the common room wasn't as empty as it was over Christmas. He apologised loudly and picked up his book and carried it over to Hermione, Dean, Ron and Draco.

Draco frowned. "Didn't know you could read Weasley," he smirked. His lip had been split on the first day of term yet he refused to explain why, and Neville had caught sight of large bruises covering his back as he changed. But the blonde remained secretive and demanded they leave the subject alone.

"I've got it," he whispered. "The stone. Hermione you were on about flanel. It's Flamel. Nicholas Flamel. He's a sorceror, a philosopher, an alchemist."

"What about him?" Hermione asked, glancing up from her own book.

"He was a friend of Dumbledore's. He created a stone, the philosopher's stone. It...it's brilliant. Real powerful. It must be what Snape's after."

Hermione looked shocked. "Well done Neville...I didn't expect this of you...I-"

"I'm full of surprises Hermione," Neville smiled. For the first time since Christmas.


	15. Chapter 15

"Did James know?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape looked up from where he gazed at the floor. He couldn't bear to be seated. Shame shackled him, burning at his flesh. "He wanted children more than anything. Was willing to do anything. He agreed to it."

Dumbledore swallowed. "It was Lily's idea you say? Does the...does Harry know?"

Snape shook his head. "James will always be his Father. It's what Lily would..."

Dumbledore tapped his fingers against the desk. "Very well. Now let us discuss Neville Longbottom. You are aware that our chosen hero is busy preparing to smuggle a dragon out of the school, Harry Potter knows this and instead of coming to a teacher is planning on using his Father's dratted cloak to follow them."

Snape almost laughed. "I wouldn't expect any less from James's son."

"He'll find out you know," Dumbledore said very quietly. "People will talk. Harry looks more and more like you each day."

"I thought we were talking about Longbottom," Snape said. "You realise that the four have been following me and Quirrell around all month. They think I haven't noticed. Really Headmaster, you'd think that we teach them nothing about espionage."

Dumbledore turned away fingering the notes on his desk carefully. "If Neville learns when to break the rules now he'll know when to break them when he's older."

"That's right," Argus Filch said as he slipped into the room.

Snape jumped. "When did you start creeping around?"

"The children need to be ready for a war," Filch murmured. "If they can unite against small villains like me and you, they can unite against Voldemort when the time is right."

Wincing at the use of the name Snape nodded. "You both believe a war is really going to come?"

"Neville doesn't know it yet. Neither does Harry nor Draco. But a war will come before they have reached adulthood. They will be important Severus," Dumbledore murmured as he closed his eyes. "So important."

Snape made his way to the door. "I trust you Headmaster. Argus does your lovely Larissa need any more of her potion?"

Filch shook his head. "Larissa's fine for another week. Then of course she has a break while she's human before she returns to being Mrs. Norris."

"Well I suppose I shall have to apprehend the lot of them," Snape finally said. "Unless you feel like doing it Argus. Neville and his clique are smuggling a dragon out sometime soon. Are you going to tell me when Headmaster or am I going to have to find that out myself?"

"Where would the fun be if I told you?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Right," Snape clapped his hands together. "We can't let them get away with too much anyhow. Otherwise they won't learn to be careful."

Hagrid was hiding a dragon called Norbert in his little home. Hermione, Ron and Neville (Draco refused to visit him ever because he was a 'smelly old oaf' though the other three scolded him for speaking so dreadfully about htheir friend) visited him quite frequently and finally managed to convince him to let the dragon be taken by Ron's older brother to somewhere it would be much happier.

Before that it almost burnt down his house. Twice.

And set fire to Hermione's hair. Ron had told her no one could tell the difference because it always looked burnt and scruffy. For some reason she didn't take kindly to being told that.

It was due to be removed that very evening.

Each time any of the four passed the third floor corridor they pressed their ears against the locked door to hear that Fluffy (they'd learnt its name from Hagrid) was still growling inside. Snape seemed to be in a fouler mood than usual and Quirrell was as scared as ever.

They'd decided that it couldn't be Snape after the stone. That was simply illogical. And the only other person who would have reason would be Quirrell. "Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," Hermione kept quoting.

Neither Neville nor Ron had heard about Sherlock Holmes. But whoever the man was he sounded stupid. Draco kept claiming to have but Neville and Ron thought he was lying to try to impress Hermione.

Quirrell wouldn't still be there if he'd stolen the Stone which meant it was still safe. Whenever they passed Snape these days they tried to give him encouraging smiles and they told people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter. After all if they were nice to him he might decide not to want to steal it after all.

What Hermione could care less about was the Philosopher's Stone though. She'd begun to think about exams already and was colour coding her notes. Neville and Ron wouldn't have minded but she kept nagging them to do the same. Draco already had.

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements.

But even that left her mind after the Ridgeback dragon set fire to her hair. Suddenly she too agreed that it was necessary to get Norbert out of Hogwarts as soon as possible. That and it could get them (because they knew about it) and Hagrid expelled.

After explaining that Hagrid had been expelled once and couldn't be expelled again on account of being a teacher she settled for screeching "he could be fired and be burnt to death!"

They were to meet Charlie, Ron's brother, on the tallest tower at Midnight on the first Saturday back after the Easter Holidays.

It was easy enough; Hermione and Draco alternated acting as lookout and Neville and Ron took turns in carrying the dreadful winged creature. It was a dark stormy night when they arrived at Hagrid's hut and Hagrid had the dragon packed ready to go.

How they managed to get the crate to the castle without anyone seeing they would never know. Midnight ticked nearer as they hurried up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase then another and another.

"Nearly there!" panted Hermione.

Neville gasped and hauled the crate over to Ron. "As if you're one of the ones carrying it!" he hissed back.

Three wizards and a witch with broomsticks waited at the top of the tower. Charlie's friends were cheerful and quite noisy, so noisy that Hermione feared they would get caught. They showed them the harness they had that would suspend Norbert between them. Neville and Draco helped buckle Norbert into it and then all four shook hands with the four adults and thanked them.

Norbert was finally gone.

"You know I've never had friends before," Hermione commented. "Even if you're an idiot, you're a pompous git and you're...the chosen one, and we're doing things that could get us expelled. I really like you guys."

The boys watched her for a moment or two in silence. Ron broke it. "You're not bad either, even if you are a know it all."

"No friends?" asked Draco smugly. "I wonder why."

Suddenly there was a slight sigh that seemed to come from none of the young magicians on the tower top. Looking around in confusion Draco suddenly stuck his foot out. There was a cry and stumbling forward cloak slipping was an ebony haired boy they had grown to hate.

"Invisibility spells aren't something we cover until-" began Hermione.

Draco rolled his eyes. _Yeah worry about that. _

"Harry Potter!" cried Ron.

_State the obvious, _thought Draco.

"Where'd you get an invisibility cloak from?" demanded Ron. "I knew you were a bad egg as soon as you got into Slytherin. There's not a witch or wizard from there that hasn't gone bad!"

"Don't be an idiot Ron," snapped Hermione. "If that were true then they'd refuse to teach anyone who got sorted into Slytherin and send them home."

Neville frowned. "Listen Potter what do you think you're-"

Hermione cut across him. "If you're going to report us then do it! See if we care! I know it's been hard for you but I'll have you know that you have no excuse to act the way you do. You're nasty. You're really cruel to people and you're a right idiot Harry Potter. You think you're so special, if you and Neville's roles were reversed then everyone'd be in love with you too. I'm sorry you don't have a bloody scar and I'm sorry that you hate Neville because your parents are gone too and you don't get the glory of it. But you have no-"

"I don't have any friends either."

Draco opened his mouth to speak but Harry shook his head.

"No it's not fair. It's not my fault I got sorted into Slytherin. It's not my fault that my Dad's...that my Dad was famous. I tried to talk to Neville to apologise but he was always surrounded by you lot. The rest of the school are avoiding me, none of them know what to say to me so they just treat me like I don't exist."

Neville knew there should have been a fight. That's what happened in stories. It looked, looking at Harry's eyes, that that was what he expected too. There were four of them and they all had their wands out whereas Harry hadn't even drawn his. Draco and Ron were both bigger than Harry and Neville had gone to a state school, hadn't thrown many punches, but had a mean left hook if he needed it.

Draco had the perfect makings of a bully about him if only the other three would allow it. Draco _looked_ like he could inflict pain. And it looked as if Harry knew that too.

Harry was really trying to appeal to Hermione. She was the only one who wasn't an idiot and the one who was least likely to try to kick his head in.

Neville extended a hand. "I forgive you Harry."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Really?"

Hermione nodded, confused for once. "Really?"

Neville had to grin. "Yeah, really."

"I wish things were different," offered Harry. "I wish I'd been different. I wish...I just want my Mum and Dad back. You know?"

Neville nodded. "I know."

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, hearts light. Harry warned them that Filch would be patrolling soon and so they'd waited for him to pass. When the thought he was gone and the corridor was finally empty they stepped out.

Who should they step right into but Severus Snape, who was making a habit of lurking around in the shadows.

"Well, well, well," whispered Snape with glee. "We are in trouble aren't we?"

Suddenly Hermione remembered what they'd forgotten at the top of the tower. But it was too late.

_Harry's invisibility cloak._

Things were dreadful. Things were so dreadful they could never be worse. Snape took them to McGonagall's study because it was closer and then both of them started shouting. Neville couldn't think of any good excuses, cover ups or alibis. Hermione was trembling all the time and Ron felt a sudden burst of anger as Harry placed a comforting hand in hers. She simply stared back at him a whimpering smile on her lips. It was bad enough that Draco fancied the stupid girl but Harry too? Didn't know what they saw in her really.

She was annoying and stupid like every other girl in their year. But he supposed it wasn't her fault. She was after all a girl just like every other girl in her year. Plus they had more important things to worry about. Creeping around the school in the dead of night and being up on the tallest astronomy tower meant they might as well pack their bags.

"I would never have believed it of any of you!" McGonagall growled. "Professor Snape says you were up in the tower. It's one o' clock. Explain yourselves why don't you!"

Snape leant forward on the desk. "Yes. I'm interested in hearing this one Potter, Longbottom. I expect better from members of my own house. As I'm sure you do of yours Professor McGonagall."

Hermione opened and shut her mouth like a goldfish. Neville stared at his feet. Draco was muttering something about his Father not accepting any of this and Ron just stared blankly ahead. Harry kept sending Snape defiant looks.

"I'm disgusted personally," said McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night. Miss Granger I thought you had more sense. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy I can't say I expected different but Mr. Longbottom I thought Gryffindor meant more than this to you. And Mr. Potter...well Professor Snape can decide. I think fifty points from Gryffindor is quite suitable."

"Fifty?" gasped Neville.

"Each," said Snape. "I think fifty points from each will do. Do you agree Professor McGonagall?"

She wrung her hands. "Unfortunately so. And detention each."

News of the sudden loss spread like wildfire. Neville Longbottom, the famous Neville Longbottom, had lost them all those points, him, Malfoy who should've been in Slytherin (everyone said) and two other stupid first years.

Suddenly no Gryffindor liked Neville as much as they had previously.

Slytherins no longer liked Harry either. But they hadn't much to start with. Even his false friends had stopped talking to him as soon as he could no longer provide signed photos of his Dad.

It was Neville that got it worst though. Because everywhere he went people pointed and didn't bother lowering their voices when they insulted him. All apart from the Slytherins who clapped and cheered. "Thanks Longbottom, you made up for Potter's screw up!"

Hermione and Ron suffered too. They didn't have as bad a time as Neville, Draco and Harry because they weren't as well known. But nobody would speak to them and Hermione just kept her head down all the time and wouldn't speak to anyone.

Neville was secretly glad the exams weren't far away because all the studying he had to do kept his mind off his misery. Every Saturday he, Ron, Hermione and Draco would meet Harry in the library and would stay there all day, trying to remember ingredients to complicated potions, learn charms and spells, memorize dates of discoveries and much more.

Of course it seemed that Neville was the only one who actually wanted to hang around Harry since Draco pointed out it made them even more unpopular than usual. Draco and Harry were both gits and insulting and cruel but Draco was a funny git and people did like him for that.

Neville and Harry were on their way back from the library together one afternoon when they heard somebody whimpering from a classroom ahead. As they drew closer they quietened hearing Quirrell's voice.

"No-no-not again, please-"

It sounded as if someone was threatening him. Harry moved closer. _What are you doing? _Mouthed Neville.

_Listening, _mouthed Harry back. _What does it look like I'm doing? _

"Ok-ok," Quirrel sobbed. "Oh no...ugh...no..."

Then Quirrell came hurrying from the classroom, scuttering like a spider as he straightened his turban looking around. He was paler than usual and tears overfilled his eyes. Striding out of sight Neville thanked the listening gods that he hadn't noticed them.

Harry peered into the classroom.

"There's no one there," whispered Harry. "He was talking to...something inside his head? Something

Neville nodded slowly. They hadn't told Harry everything about what they'd learnt because they couldn't be sure if they could trust him. But he knew enough.

"Hermione's right," replied Neville slowly. "It's not Snape trying to get past the dog. It's Quirrell."

The light of adventure was kindling in Harry's eyes as they made their way back to the library where Hermione was quizzing Ron and Draco on astronomy. She put her plan forth before anyone else could.

"We go to Dumbledore. That's what we should've done ages ago."

"But we've got no proof," Harry said. "Beside Snape and Quirrell could be working together and Snape's tight with Dumbledore. Dumbledore'll think we're making it up. Besides you're not supposed to know about Fluffy or the stone."

Hermione nodded but Draco shrugged. "We could do some snooping around," he suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh such a good idea."

"Scared are you Potter?" Draco spat with distaste.

Neville shook his head. "Harry's right. But we do nothing for now. No meddling. No nothing. For now we wait and see what happens."

Ron nodded in agreement as did Hermione. Draco and Harry did not seem convinced, but Neville could live with that.

Pulling a map of Jupiter towards him he asked Hermione if she'd help him learn the names of its moons.

Their detention was the following day in the dark Forbidden Forest. Of course it was only dark because the sun was blocked out by the trees and nothing else, Hermione pointed out, nothing to be afraid of, of course.

Neville wasn't convinced.

But working with Hagrid didn't seem such a bad detention. When Ron was asleep he and Draco had discussed it and surely there were a lot worse that they could have got given. Of course Draco's Father wouldn't be happy about it but Neville was starting to realise that Mr. Malfoy probably wasn't happy about much.

But the Forbidden Forest was a dark place filled with various dangerous magical creatures. It bordered the edges of Hogwarts and its name gave it an even more scary air. The students who were given detention in the depths of the forest were unlucky and that's what most of them were thinking as they followed Hagrid.

Suddenly a piercing cry of pain echoed in the distance. Hagrid didn't pause instead he pushed on further, an uncomfortable pained look gracing his rough face.

Hermione began to rattle off every fact she knew about the forest as the thick damp fog of trees and branches surrounded them, encasing them in an unbreakable shell. Neville whispered to Ron and Draco. Harry followed silently.

"I knew your parents," Hagrid had said to Harry earlier, trying to make conversation.

Harry had simply nodded.

Finally they reached a clearing and split into two groups. Hermione and Ron were to go with Hagrid while Harry, Draco and Neville were to take Fang.

It was Harry that spotted the trail of shining silver liquid. The three boys followed it and suddenly Neville felt a sharp white hot fire dance through his famous scar and he clutched his forehead in agony.

Draco and Harry had stopped, Harry demanding to know if he was alright and Draco pointing out that he obviously wasn't. He managed to shrug it off with a weak response.

"Unicorn blood," murmured Draco. _Hermione said..._"It keeps someone alive doesn't it?"

Neville gasped, smothering it as he stopped Harry from walking ahead. The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen lay dying on the ground and beside it was a dark hooded figure slowly drinking its blood like a baby might drink the milk of its mother. _Greedily...needily...desperately..._

Fang let out a terrible scream as the figure raised its head. Draco cried out and Harry staggered backwards. Dribbling down the figure's front was the unicorn's blood and Neville could not move for fear. A pain like never before pierced through Neville's head and half blinded he raised his hands to cover his face.

Suddenly there was a galloping of hooves as a brilliant half horse half man charged the dreadful figure. Neville fell to his knees only for Harry and Draco to grab him upright and drag him for cover. When finally Neville could see the figure was gone.

A centaur stood over them, young with white blonde hair and a palomino body.

"Are you children alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered for them. "What the hell was that?"

The centaur didn't answer, he had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He stared at Neville, eyes lingering over the scar. "You're the Longbottom boy. And you're the Slytherin who should be a Gryffindor. And you're his vice versa," he chuckled. "The forest is not safe, especially for you three. The planets have shown us such dreadful things...I am Firenze of the centaurs. I do not wish you harm. But there others who do."

Other centaurs arrived and none offered to help Firenze. Neville could barely walk the pain was so dreadful and Draco and Harry hoisted him onto the centaurs back.

As they walked afraid and despairing both boys knew something terrible lurked in the forest. The other centaurs watched with curiosity and flanked them like a guard but none approached or attempted to speak. Hermione had explained how monstrous it was to slay a unicorn and only someone who had everything to gain and nothing to lose would do it.

Firenze seemed to be reciting some Latin prayers to gods unknown over and over under his breath. Harry wondered who would be so desperate to stay alive if they were going to be cursed forever. Draco met his eyes.

Both were thinking the same thing. Inside their school was the Philosopher's Stone, the elixir of life. There was one person who had waited years to return to power, who had clung to life, awaiting their chance, that would be so desperate.

It was a dreadful realisation as though an iron fist had suddenly clenched around their hearts. Hagrid helped scoop Neville down off the centaur's back and they began their journey out of the forest and back to the castle together.

"Voldemort," whispered Draco. The wizard that had killed Neville's parents, the wizard who in his name Harry's life had been wrecked, the wizard his Father had once sworn to, the dreadful evil man (if he could be called that) that had brought pain and destruction wherever he went.

"He's really back," replied Neville as doom took him.

"Shit," muttered Harry.

That really summed it up.

The four Gryffindor's spent the rest of the night talking for none of them could sleep. By the time they did finally fall asleep in front of the fire Draco and Neville had recounted the tale for Ron and Hermione who were both as depressed as they were.

Harry didn't sleep much either.

Not for lack of trying.

When he awoke his invisibility cloak was on the end of his bed. Pinned to it was a note. _You might be needing this. _

Harry rushed with the news to tell Neville. Hermione had smiled at him and Ron had nodded. Draco had smirked but that's just what Draco did. They went to a disused classroom so that Harry could show them how it worked. Neville had to admit it was cool.

As they all laughed and played and Hermione lectured them on the benefits of invisibility Neville found it easy to forget about Voldemort.

Harry realised he finally had friends.


End file.
